


How To Train Your Angel-Wolf-Boyfriend

by OctoSally



Category: Jupiter Ascending (2015)
Genre: Anal Sex, Attempted Sex Pollen, Bees, Collars, Dom/sub, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Feels, Femdom, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, Knotting, Light Choking, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Pegging, Porn With Plot, Post-Movie, Praise Kink, Riding Crops, Romance, Safer Sex, Sexual exploration, Spoilers for Jupiter Ascending, Topping from the Bottom, Vaginal Sex, Vibrators, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-13 14:21:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 74,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3384977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OctoSally/pseuds/OctoSally
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The fact that she was still a little annoyed with him for the “I’m closer to a dog than you” quip might have informed what she did next.</p><p>She patted the warm cement next to her, and said, in the firm tone she’d heard animal trainers use:</p><p>“Caine, <i>sit</i>.”</p><p>[Pretty much what it says on the tin. Jupiter Jones and Caine Wise figure each other out, post-canon. Basically my exploration of their relationship and where it might lead. EDIT: Now COMPLETE! Enjoy the sex and plot and wacky OCs!]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being one of the three critical commands that should be taught as part of a dog (or angel-wolf-boy)’s basic training.

**1\. Sit**

_Being one of the three critical commands that should be taught as part of a dog (or angel-wolf-boy)’s basic training._

 

“Aren’t you gonna sit down?” Jupiter asked. It had been almost a minute, and Caine was still standing at the roof’s edge, like some Roman god-turned-gargoyle, trying to glare broodily out over the city.

Emphasis on _trying_ , since it is hard to glare effectively when you are holding a giant hot dog with extra mustard, onion and relish. The two things were incompatible, as Caine had obviously discovered. He looked unhappily down at Jupiter, where she was sitting with her legs hanging over the edge and a napkin pulled across her lap with the corners tucked into the pockets of her jeans, to keep it from blowing away, as she bit into her own hot dog (bratwurst with ketchup, relish, mustard and mayo, since Jupiter didn’t believe in breaking diets so much as in obliterating them).

“Sorry,” he said, stiff and a little awkward. The way he got whenever she behaved particularly un-royal. She sighed, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and licked the mix of condiments off. Surprisingly, this did not earn her the blank, closed-off expression that usually dropped like a curtain over his face when she did something inappropriate. Instead, all his attention went to her hand; even his ears seemed to perk.

“Look,” said Jupiter, waving the appendage to break his gaze. “I’ve got ten minutes before I need to meet my folks at the next house, so if we’re gonna actually have lunch together you need to get down here and start eating.”

Caine made an involuntary motion, as though half his body wanted to do as she suggested, but something else held him back.

“It is just,” he began, went to rub the back of his neck, discovered that the hand he had intended to use had got relish on it, and reluctantly returned it to his hot dog. “I am more accustomed to eating in a mess hall. Or a den. Some place safe. This is so exposed. I had intended to stand guard.” He finished awkwardly, finally giving in and licking the relish off his hand, as Jupiter had done with her own, all the while holding her gaze as if to ask _is this okay_?

She began to roll her eyes, and then stopped. What he said made perfect sense, after all. And he had been trained—consistently, brutally, and unrelentingly—all his life. She couldn’t expect him to drop all that training just because she invited him to share hot dogs with her. No, Jupiter thought, _unlearning_ something that you had been trained to do could be just as hard as being trained in the first place. After all, it had taken multiple near-death experiences, a severely messed up almost-wedding, and her family getting kidnapped before she’d managed to unlearn the deferential conditioning that she’d managed to absorb over the course of her life. Perhaps it would be easier, for Caine, if she merely helped him expand upon the training he’d already had.

The fact that she was still a little annoyed with him for the “I’m closer to a dog than you” quip might have informed what she did next.

She patted the warm cement next to her, and said, in the firm tone she’d heard animal trainers use:

“Caine, _sit_.”

The effect was immediate and a little frightening: Caine marched over and sat down—with surprising grace for someone his size—precisely where her hand had been, his feet dangling right alongside hers. It brought one of his massive thighs right alongside her own and their shoulders touched. Well, her shoulder touched around his bicep; she could rest her right elbow on his leg. So she did, using it to prop up the hand holding her hot dog. She gave him what she hoped was a warm and encouraging smile.

“ _Good_ boy,” she said, and took a large bite out of her quickly-diminishing lunch.

It was only because they were sitting so close together that she felt the shudder that ran though his entire body—well, from his knee to his bicep, which was all she was in direct contact with—but the feeling was unmistakable, and it nearly made her regurgitate her last bite. Glancing across at him she could see only his profile, and his expression was unlike anything she’d ever seen before. Something like stunned amazement crossed with utter confusion, if she had to take a guess.

“Oh god, I’m sorry,” she said, forcefully swallowing. “Was that—I didn’t mean—was it not okay?”

She was still staring at him, so when he turned suddenly to meet her gaze she was confronted with the full force of two shadowy, blue eyes delicately lined in black. (She’d asked him about his eye-liner. Once. He’d been profoundly bewildered until she’d indicated her own eyes and he’d smiled in relief and said “Oh, you mean my war paint?” Far from correcting him, she’d started to think of her own make-up as putting on her war paint.) No longer confused, now there was such a turmoil of emotions in his face she didn’t even try to decipher their meaning.

Eventually, he said:

“No, Your Majesty, it is not… I mean, yes. Yes it is… okay.”

“Ok _ay_ ,” said Jupiter, but uncertainly. “Because, like, I’m aware I don’t know half of what you’ve been through, and if I ever do anything to make you feel uncomfortable, that’s actually _not_ okay and you need to tell me, so I can stop. Okay?”

This got the blank look again. Crap. But Caine seemed to be thinking, for a moment later he replied.

“I do not think Your Majesty fully understands: as a splice, what I feel does not matter. It is only your feelings that are relevant.”

Jupiter looked down at the remains of her hot dog. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to shove it into his face or throw it off the building (it was a long way down; there would be a satisfying _splat_ ). She didn’t want to eat it anymore, that was for certain. She wanted to find the people who’d drilled this notion into Caine’s ridiculously pretty head and finish doing to them what she’d started doing to Balem. But it likely hadn’t been just one person, or even two, or twenty. It had been a lifetime—probably longer than hers—of being immersed in a society and culture that was constantly reinforcing the belief that _this was the way it was_. She could certainly relate to that. She also knew it _was_ possible to re-train yourself, and maybe, with her help, Caine could do it without almost getting himself killed.

“Look,” she said, forcing herself to speak slowly, not just so Caine would be forced to be quiet and listen, but so she could think carefully about the words she used. “You’re a _person_. So am I. Maybe you’re a splice-person, and I’m a royal—entitled—whatever-person, but we’re both _people_. So _both_ our feelings matter. This might sound a bit Tumblr—I know, you don’t know what that means, just bear with me—but… look, Caine. Your feelings? Are _valid_. As in, they _matter_. On their _own_. But they also matter to _me_. They matter to me a _lot_. So, even if you don’t feel like your feelings matter or that they should matter, remember that they matter to _me_ , and since _my_ feelings matter no matter what, so do yours.”

She looked up hopefully, but now Caine was looking honestly confused. Probably lost somewhere around the fourth “matter.” Jupiter sighed. She seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.

“Basically,” she tried again. “If anything I do or say makes you feel bad, that makes me feel bad. So you’ve gotta help me not make you feel bad. For my sake!”

That got a small smile, but it was a sad one, and didn’t last. He turned his head away, but leaned gently into her; a press of reaffirming weight, like a gentle mountain.

“Your Majesty,” he began, and his voice was so quiet it was almost lost in the wind. “It is a staggering kindness that you… that you care so much. It truly is,” he added, having heard her faint snort. “To many entitled, we splices are little more than livestock. That is my reality. And the fact that you… it’s not…” he stumbled to a halt; seemed to be struggling to find the right words. So Jupiter remained silent, waiting, and eventually they came.

“No one has ever called me that before.” His voice was barely more than a low rasp.

Jupiter blinked.

“What, a _good boy_?”

Another shiver, but fainter this time. She hadn’t meant the words as praise; they didn’t have the same power.

Power. _That was it._

“You mean no one’s ever _praised_ you before?”

Caine shrugged. “I have received confirmation of a job well done. Of missions successfully executed. But in the context of…” he waved a hand vaguely. “…ordinary circumstances. I suppose I’ve been called a lot of things, but none of them were very complimentary.”

He didn’t offer any examples, and Jupiter didn’t ask. She could well imagine what they had been: she’d heard him refer to himself by a few of them.

Which still didn’t answer her original question, whose importance hadn’t diminished in the slightest. So she repeated it.

“Yes,” said Caine, sounding surprised in spite of himself. “Yes, it was… it was _good._ ”

He was still struggling with words. Jupiter looked at him expectantly. The man gave a full-body twitch, like a dog trying to rid itself of a fly.

“It felt good,” he admitted, almost shamefully. Then he thought of something, and look down at her with a twinkling expression. “From anyone else it would have seemed wrong, but when you say it…” he trailed off again, but hopefully this time.

Jupiter felt something nervous and powerful rise in her throat as she realized what he meant.

“You _liked_ it,” she said, and this time it wasn’t a question.

“Your Majesty,” he said, and there was almost a whine in his voice. He couldn’t ask for what he needed, but luckily Jupiter thought she had a pretty good idea what that was.

“Tell you what,” she said, pointing at his as-yet untouched hot dog. “If you can finish that before I finish mine, I’ll say it again. And _mean_ it,” she added, with a suggestive tilt of her eyebrows.

She had been more than half way through with her hot dog, but it was still no competition: Caine ate his in two bites. _Two bites._ Really, he probably could have downed it in one if he’d been willing to chew with his mouth open. Jupiter found she was laughing too hard to take more than another mouthful of her own.

“ _Good_ boy,” she said, still laughing, and leaned up to kiss the side of his head, just next to the delicately pointed ear.

Another shiver, but this one seemed less surprised and more satisfied. She barely waited for him to swallow before planting another kiss firmly on his mouth.

He still hesitated a moment before responding—as though he still couldn’t quite believe what was happening—but when he did it was all out. He kissed a lot like he fought, and Jupiter came away tasting relish and onion.

“Good boy,” she whispered, pressing a parting kiss to his bristly cheek. “Here,” she added, shoving the end of her hot dog into his hands. “You can finish mine. As a reward.”

He took it, a little disbelievingly, and ate slowly, this time clearly enjoying the actual taste of the thing.

“Good?” she asked.

Caine swallowed, conscientiously wiped his mouth and chin with the outside of the paper wrapping, and folded the soiled mess into a bundle.

“Good,” he said.

Jupiter took her own napkin and added it to the bundle. “I’ll take care of that,” she said, stuffing the sticky papers into her little waist pack. She checked her watch. “I gotta go meet my mom and aunt now, but thanks. Thanks for having lunch with me, it was nice.”

“Your Majesty,” said Caine, with a bow of his head. The words still took effort, but they seemed to come easier this time. “I also… enjoyed myself.”

“Good,” said Jupiter, getting up onto her knees so she could plant a kiss in the middle of his forehead. The action pressed his face into her throat and she heard him inhale sharply, two points of warmth blooming around her waist as his hands came to rest gently there.

“I’ll see you tonight,” she promised. And then, since it would only get harder the longer she waited, she slid out from between his hands and pushed herself off the roof, falling freely for almost thirty feet before kicking off from the building and skating away through the air, carving gracefully between the skyscrapers of Downtown with her ponytail streaming in the wind behind her.

There was something in her chest, beating like a pair of powerful flesh-and-metal wings.

If she’d been able to look, she would have seen Caine, still sitting on the side of the roof, one hand resting on the concrete beside him, warm from her recent presence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I'm such a dork I did my own fanart](http://elrondxrn.tumblr.com/tagged/rondie-writes-fanfic).


	2. Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being second of the three critical commands that should be taught as part of a dog (or angel-wolf-boy)’s basic training.

**2\. Stay**

_Being second of the three critical commands that should be taught as part of a dog (or angel-wolf-boy)’s basic training._

 

Jupiter came out of the bathroom in the penthouse apartment, rubbing the feeling back into her knees, and would have had a heart attack—if she hadn’t already been kidnapped, fallen off a building, fallen off a burning human gene refinery on her namesake planet, hadn’t seen her mother almost eviscerated by some nightmare machine, basically hadn’t seen half the crazy shit that had been thrown at her a month ago.

Caine was dangling up side-down outside the huge, floor-to-ceiling windows which illuminated the main living area, his boots hooked on some contraption out of sight above them. His wings were at half-mast—not fully clamped down on his back, but folded enough so they wouldn’t create unwanted wind-drag—and he had his arms crossed over his chest.

Jupiter wanted to press her face up against the window and demand to know what on Earth was going on—he’d never intruded on her “normal time” before, but patiently waited for her at the appointed place and time—except that her mother was also in the room, her back blessedly turned to the window. 

“You finished already, Jupiter?” she asked, and Jupiter had the presence of mind to rip her eyes off the six feet of black leather-wearing angel-wolf-boyfriend thing hanging outside a fiftieth-floor window and give her mom a tired smile. Then, in a burst of inspiration, she said:

“Yeah, actually. Want me to make a start on the master bedroom? I’ll go make a start on the master bedroom.” She grabbed the caddy and snagged the vacuum as she spoke, and dragged the whole lot swiftly around the corner and into said bedroom—which _also_ had floor-to-ceiling windows and happened to be deserted.

By the time she shut the door and leaned her back against it, breathing out in relief, Caine was there. Of course he was: he’d heard every word she’d said, thanks to his augmented ears. So Jupiter didn’t bother to raise her voice—in fact, she spoke quietly so that no one else would hear—when she said, “What’s going _on_ , Caine?”

Caine gave her a helpless, long-suffering sort of look. Then he tapped the side of his head with one finger and mouthed the words “CALL ME” with careful exaggeration.

He’d given her what he called a “comm button,” but it looked more like an angular, metal earring with a tiny bead on a fine silver wire. The bead went into your ear and the ring bit hung off the shell. It was meant to be worn around the clock (Caine explained that he and Stinger, as legionnaires, both had theirs implanted), but Jupiter found it tickled just enough to be impossible to sleep in, and she forgot it more often than not.

By a stroke of luck, however, the last time she’d torn it out in frustration she’d stuffed it into the breast pocket of the cotton shirt she was currently wearing. So she pulled the little thing out, clipped the metal to her ear, and with a shiver tucked the tiny bead inside. She touched the external square of metal, activating the holographic interface, and selected the profile marked “CAINE.”

“I’m sorry,” his voice spoke, close and intimate, as though he were speaking directly into her ear. Which he was, in a way. The sound quality was remarkable: there were no external artifacts—no wind bluster or ambient noise—and no static. It made Jupiter feel slightly disoriented.

“Sorry for what?” she asked, trying to remember if she’d done something—or asked him to do something—that could possibly have given him a chance to make a perceived mistake. Other than potentially blowing his cover in the most spectacular fashion possible.

“I didn’t know how else to attract your attention,” he explained. “You didn’t have you button on.” There was a distinct whine in his voice, but also a note of reproach. Jupiter would have been annoyed, except Caine was so naturally deferential to her—even if, to be honest, that was a big part of his charm—she thought it was a good thing he was getting confident enough to express petty displeasure.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Jupiter said, giving an embarrassed shrug. “But you nearly got seen!”

“That would have been easily remedied,” Caine pointed out.

“I told the caretakers no more brain wipes,” Jupiter reminded him. “ _Especially_ not for my family. They’ve been through enough—and besides, who knows if those things cause brain cancer or something.”

“I am sorry,” Caine repeated. “But it’s urgent. You may be in danger.”

Well that was just _great._

“How much danger?” Jupiter asked, because details were important.

Caine made a face that was impossible to interpret through a layer of smudged glass and up side-down. “We’re not sure yet. Maybe a lot?”

“Caine, what is going _on?_ ”

The man sighed and heaved his shoulders, which looked truly remarkable, given his current position.

“The Aegis have been investigating the Abrasax refinery. They haven’t recovered much, but they did find something.”

Jupiter felt a cold, hard lump form in the pit of her stomach. It was a familiar feeling. With it came the mean little voice that whispered in the back of her head, saying, “Good things never last. This is why you can’t have a nice life. Something always goes wrong.”

“What did they find, Caine?”

“The body of Balem Abrasax. Or what was left of it.”

Oh. Jupiter blinked in surprise as she felt the cold, hard lump get an unexpected fracture. Well, _that_ was all right. Unless…

“I _didn’t_ kill him,” she said, even though she’d said as much to Captain Tsing. Repeatedly.

“I wouldn’t have minded if you had,” Caine said, heartfelt, but he took her meaning. “That’s not the trouble. Since his death is now confirmed, there will be proceedings. Legal things. To do with inheritance.”

“Oh,” said Jupiter, her heart sinking. Had Balem named an heir? Was she going to have to fight for Earth all over again? Was she going to have to go through the nightmare of Orous again?

“It seems Balem did not make a will,” Caine was saying. “So _all_ his assets will pass to you.”

“Oh,” said Jupiter. It was all she really could say.

“I am told it’s a lot. Worth a lot, I mean,” Caine explained. “It raises the chances that you might encounter some… we had a word for it. Let me think. Right. _Unsolicited attention._ From people who wish to share in your… good fortune.”

“You mean _suitors?_ ” Jupiter said, forgetting, for a moment, to keep her voice low. She went on in a hissing whisper. “Like, more creeps wanting to _marry_ me?”

“That is the most likely possibility. Stinger didn’t think it was worth upping your security detail, but I thought it would be better if… well. If I was…”

 _If you were close by to drop-kick off the planet anyone who turned up to bother me. Or my family._ Jupiter’s brain had supplied her with several scenarios in which Caine had arrived at her (horrible, terrible, no-good-rotten) almost-wedding five minutes earlier. She’d rather enjoyed all of them. So the fact that Caine had thought this information worth revealing himself to her mom was actually a little charming now. 

A little.

“Caine, I really don’t think anyone is gonna propose to me while I’m changing someone’s dirty sheets.”

Caine didn’t look convinced, and after a moment’s thought, Jupiter relented.

“Okay, you’re right. Some people would totally do that. And scare my mom a lot more than you would have. Thanks for the head’s up. You can go—I dunno—guard the front door?”

Caine looked helpless. “Which one is that?”

“The big, red one. It’s got a green awning over it that says _Biltmore_ in fancy, yellow letters.”

Caine nodded, and dropped out of sight, a flash of dark feathers against the bright sky. A moment later his voice spoke, still in her ear.

“Keep your button in!”

 

*

 

Caine was still standing guard dutifully outside the front door when they drove off. He’d put on his uniform jacket so his wings were hidden, and looked like someone’s hired muscle. Which he was, in fact. Just not for the person any of the passersby might have guessed. It made Jupiter smile.

He was also standing guard outside the front door of their next house—a residential up along the Far North Side—when they arrived, and looked horrendously out of place. Only here he looked more like some gang member casing a joint, and Aunt Nino drove around the block three times hoping he would leave before they gave up and parked across the street, hurrying them past him and into the house like a string of scared mice.

“Try some place less conspicuous,” Jupiter hissed into her button-ear-thing. “You’re probably scaring the neighbors, too.”

“Sorry,” came the response.

Five minutes later she started up the stairs to the second floor to find Caine crouching at the top of them.

“No, no, no,” said Jupiter, herding him into the nearest bathroom and closing the door behind them. “This will freak them out even more.”

“I will take every precaution not to be seen,” he assured her, earnestly. It was touching, but comical—he was so big he took up almost half the room.

“No, no,” repeated Jupiter, pulling on her gloves. “You stay in here—they won’t touch the bathrooms, so no worries—and you can _stay_ in here after I’m done.”

Caine looked deeply unhappy about this, but he obligingly knelt on the towel she laid down so he wouldn’t get the floor dirty, and kept moving whenever he got in her way. It was annoying, having to work around him, but Jupiter found it was also pleasant to have him nearby while she worked. The sound of his breathing (deep, strong breaths, interspersed with little sighs) and the way he settled into the space, was oddly relaxing. He was still alert, but not tense. And if Caine wasn’t worried, Jupiter figured she shouldn’t be either.

Then she had to move on to the next room.

“No, you stay in here,” she hissed, maneuvering herself and her caddy out the door before he could follow.

“But—” Caine began to protest.

“ _Caine,_ ” she said, resorting to what she was coming to think of as her animal trainer voice. “ _Stay._ ”

Caine stopped, and looked at her with something like panic.

“It’s all right,” she reassured him. “Just stay in here. I’ll have my button on. You can talk to me any time. Can you do that?”

Caine gave one of his full-body sighs that made his massive shoulders heave. “Yes,” he said, as though he was agreeing to sleep in a puddle of cold water.

Jupiter leaned back into the room.

“Good boy,” she whispered.

Caine’s head jerked up and he stared at her, a flash of eagerness in his eyes.

“Stay,” Jupiter reminded him, and backed out, closing the door behind her.

It worked. Caine stayed in the bathroom while she finished her work, and was no where to be seen when they left—much to Aunt Nino’s relief.

He was, however, lurking behind the chimney of Cousin Vassily’s house when they pulled in that evening, but Jupiter only noticed the telltale shadow down by the roofline because she was half-expecting it by that point.

It made for a somewhat distracting dinner, since Jupiter kept worrying that Caine would take it into his head to come and hide on the stairs, or something. As a result she ate as fast as she could, hoping to get away and have a proper talk with him and still get to bed at a reasonable hour.

Her mother noticed, but when she elbowed Jupiter in the side, it was with a smile.

“So, Jupiter,” she said. “Do you have date tonight, too?”

With an effort Jupiter ripped her mind off wondering what other “assets” she’d be landed with thanks to Balem’s death. (Slaves, maybe? Or _more_ planets? She really needed to talk to Caine.)

“What? No, actually. But I’m seeing him tomorrow afternoon,” she added. That had been the deal they’d struck: Caine checked in with her every evening, and Jupiter took Friday afternoons off so they could fly into the city. Lately they’d been alternating between flying practice for her, and sampling different restaurants for Caine, who had apparently been subsisting on flavorless protein rations for his entire life.

“Ah, that is good,” her mother was saying. “Good to have something in your life. Something to look forward to. Your Aunt Nino, now, she says I need something like that in my life.”

Jupiter felt her eyes going wide. “Mom, you’re not—”

“No, I am not seeing nobody!” her mom announced. “But Nino is taking me to her astrology circle tonight.”

A glance across the table showed her Aunt Nino grinning and nodding eagerly around mouthfuls of borsht.

“We might not be back until nine,” her mother added in an ominous undertone. “Make sure the coffee is extra strong tomorrow morning.”

Which was how Jupiter ended up alone in the bedroom, miracle of miracles, when the window opened and six feet of wolf-man, wings, and heavy boots rolled through and onto the floor, coming up to a graceful kneeling position at her feet.

“Majesty,” he whispered, ducking his head. It was how he always greeted her when they met, but the current position made it more like a supplication than ever. It did strange things to Jupiter’s stomach—made it feel hot and tight and hugely powerful at the same time.

“You’re in luck,” she said, dryly, trying to get the feeling under control. “My mom and Aunt Nino are out on the town tonight. We can actually have privacy, provided we keep it quiet.”

Caine raised his head to gaze at her, his face carefully blank. 

“Keep what quiet?” he asked.

Jupiter had to struggle not to roll her eyes again. Or sigh. Caine was remarkably obtuse when it came to anything regarding sexual intimacy: she’d had to spell out, in excruciating detail, what the Earth standards were for sex, and by the time she’d finished they were both so uncomfortable that any possibility of fitting the action to the word was ruled out. Between this and the limited moments of privacy they shared, and despite the frequent displays of casual affection they exchanged, there had been precious little progress beyond kissing. Once, she’d gotten him to grope her breasts through her shirt—it had felt like winning an Olympic medal. Now, however, she was simply too tired to lead him into anything he didn’t already feel comfortable with. Which would consist of sitting and talking and making out.

Which was surprisingly all right with her, she realized. Considering some of her previous partners—okay, _most_ of her previous partners—had thought of sex as something they were entitled to no matter how exhausted she was, Caine’s restraint a heaping relief.

“Nothing,” she said, smiling. “Just, talk quietly.”

“Of course,” he replied, his voice a soothing rumble. 

“So… what exactly did you mean by further assets?” she asked, going over to her bureau and pulling out her pajamas. “I’m not getting any more planets, am I?”

“I don’t think so,” said Caine, swiveling so he could keep her in sight, but otherwise not leaving his position on the floor. He was sitting right next to her mom’s laundry hamper, and the contrast between her soft, flannel shirts and his black, leather uniform was hilarious. “Stinger has the complete manifest, but it is mostly his personal effects. Retainers; a few slaves. A lot of capital.”

“Lovely,” said Jupiter, stripping out of her work clothes and pulling on the pajamas. She didn’t bother to check Caine’s reaction—though in her peripheral vision she thought she saw his shoulders tense.

“Most of the living assets will need to be signed over to you in person,” he went on, the strain in his voice barely discernible. “They are being assembled at Stinger’s farm, for lack of a better place.”

“Ah,” said Jupiter, turning out the overhead and shuffling back to her bed, where she switched on the nightlight. It showed Caine, still kneeling where he’d landed, but looking studiously down at his hands now. “Well, that’s probably a good idea,” she said. “I suppose I can beg some time off next week and go take care of things.”

“That would be best,” said Caine, chancing a glance up, and holding her gaze when he found her safely covered in plaid cotton. He started to rise. “I shall post myself on the roof at night until then.”

“Wait, stay,” said Jupiter, crossing the short distance between them and putting a hand on his shoulder. She’d meant it as a gentle gesture; a mere suggestion. It was laughable to think she could physically hold Caine down or stop him from doing anything, really, but he froze under her touch as if her hand commanded the weight of mountains. The sight of his massive shoulder, made even larger but the presence of his wing, stilling under her hand caused the hot, tight feeling to grow inside her again. Lazily, this time, but still there. Still powerful.

Like she was.

Like he made her.

“Stay,” she repeated, and he looked up at her, his face full of carefully guarded hope. It was impossible not to smile.

“Here,” she said, moving her hand around so it settled at his throat, where the clasp of the coat lay. “Let’s get this off you.”

He was malleable under her hands as she undid the fastenings and gently eased the garment off his shoulders, over his wings, before obediently pulling his arms free when prompted.

Now the hot, tight feeling had grown to a veritable fire, rising up so it filled her throat, warming her head like a double shot of whisky.

She wanted to gently strip him out of all his clothes, lay him out on the floor, and ride him until the sun came up.

And the really intoxicating thing was, she was pretty sure he’d let her. Not just suffer it to be done, either—he’d go happily, willingly, with the same look of disbelieving wonder that was currently plastered across his face.

But she was also tired. There was a tightness behind her eyes that told her if she didn’t get to bed soon she would fall where she stood.

So instead she took his hands and guided him over to her bed, where he sat and she lay, resting her legs across his lap.

“You can take those off too, if you want,” she said, plumping her pillow so she could look up at him. When he just looked bemused she toed the waistline of his pants with one foot, for illustration.

He looked down at once. It was difficult to tell in the dim light, but she thought he might be blushing.

“Unless you’re commando under those and you’re not comfortable with being completely naked,” she added, realizing how vulnerable that situation might make him feel.

“No, it’s not…” he began, then stopped, gave her an awkward, sideways glance, and then went on: “I do wear under-armor. It’s not the pants; it’s the boots.”

Jupiter was too tired to even be surprised at this point. She just raised an eyebrow.

“The boots?”

Caine nodded. “They are complicated.”

Right. The gravity surfing boots. She knew his pair were not quite the same as the ones she’d been learning on; hers had controls embedded in the soles, which made their repertoire of abilities somewhat limited. Caine’s, she’d noticed, could do twice the number of tricks and had a lot more circuitry embedded in them. They probably had a cybernetic jack similar to his wings which allowed him to control them as though they were additional appendages, and would make taking them off and on more time consuming.

She was so tired she could only laugh. 

“Okay, then,” she said, raising her knee so she could press it against his side, nudging him to lie down next to her. “Just try to keep them off the bed.”

“Of course, Majesty,” his voice—and his real, warm breath—caressing her ear as he went willingly to spoon at her side. A moment later one of his arms pressed, like a band of heat, across Jupiter’s midsection. She let out a contented sigh, and then carefully repositioned the arm so that the hand at the end of it was resting on her breast. Much better.

The fingers twitched slightly, and she pushed back against the pressure.

“Sorry,” Caine whispered.

“No, s’okay,” she murmured back. The way they were intertwined she was practically sitting on one of his massive thighs, her legs across his lap and her right side pressed against his torso. With a little maneuvering she managed to snake her right arm under his neck so she could loop it around and caress his exposed ear, gently cupping her hand and rubbing the delicate, curved tip. Unlike the rest of him, this was cold, and as it warmed under her fingers she felt his whole body sort of melt against hers. 

“You’re a good boy,” she mumbled, now with her eyes shut and sinking fast.

She still felt the shudder that raced through him, from neck to leg and down the arm across her, culminating in a faint squeeze of the hand cupping her breast. Hot breath washed over her neck and ear, and a warm mouth moved, so close to her skin she felt the brush of his lips.

“If You Majesty desires anything,” he said, and she could feel the rumble in his chest as he spoke. “You need only say.”

Oh there were so _many_ things she desired, Jupiter thought, a little petulantly. But even the prospect of _actual_ sex with an _actual_ angel-wolf-super-soldier-boyfriend was not enough to rouse her. She she pulled his head close, turned her own and kissed him, feeling his mouth yield to her, opening so sweetly she couldn’t help but lick inside to taste him. It still sent shivers down her spine: how he was so warm and rich and earthy and yet also had a strange edge, like tasting ozone.

“Just stay,” she whispered into his mouth. “Stay.”

His left arm, until then unnoticed, now made its way under her shoulder, so he could reach back and cradle her head in his hand. Without any more pressure he leaned in and kissed her back, as always tentative at first, until she moaned with pleasure and then his mouth was a crushing force against hers, devouring her tongue and sliding his own against it, filling her mouth with the taste of him—thick and pungent and just a little tingly. Her head would have been forced back at an uncomfortable angle under the onslaught, but his hand held her, soft against her hair but firm as iron.

“I will stay,” he said, only a little breathless, some time later.

“Mm,” was all Jupiter could manage. But then she smiled and added, “that’s a good boy.”

No shudder this time, but a contented sigh and a wash of warmth as he tucked his head under her chin, his beard gently brushing against her clavicle.

In their tangle the blankets had gotten thrust aside, but before the chill could descend Jupiter heard a whisper of feathers and a soft weight settled on her chest, wrapping her in a little of the heat from the body pressed up against her side.

She was utterly exhausted, and utterly surrounded and protected, and two minutes later she was utterly asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks SO MUCH to everyone who has read/commented/kudo'd! Again, I apologize for the extreme lack of kinky sex, but I swear we're gonna get there. 
> 
> *blessing from the orange tentacle*
> 
> EDIT: Added some fanart from [here.](http://elrondxrn.tumblr.com/tagged/rondie-writes-fanfic)


	3. Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being the final of the three critical commands that should be taught as part of a dog (or angel-wolf-boy)’s basic training.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE THE RATING CHANGE: Went from Teen & Up to Explicit for a very good reason. New tags for Chapter 3 include: Dom/sub, Explicit Sex, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Hand Jobs, Wing Kink (very light), Knotting, Safer Sex, Vibrators, Bees (though they are not involved in the sex bits AT ALL), and Original Character(s).
> 
> Just FWI.
> 
> I did some silly doodles for Chapters 1 and 2, which can be found [over here](http://elrondxrn.tumblr.com/post/112022117979/what-is-this-now-im-doing-fanart-for-my-own), and I'm also imbedding them in their respective chapters. :)
> 
> My notes for Chapter 3 were as follows:
> 
>  
> 
> _try to do something besides the obvious you can do it_
> 
>  
> 
> Spoilers: I failed. Enjoy the porn.

**3\. Come**

_Being the final of the three critical commands that should be taught as part of a dog (or angel-wolf-boy)’s basic training._

 

“…three million C in crystalline gold, two regiments of sargons, one antigrav chariot, and myself, of course.” The little man with the improbably coiffed white hair gave a modest cough and rocked back on his heels, officiously handing the data pad to Jupiter.

Jupiter took it, feeling a familiar ache rising behind her eyes. She’d gotten the whole weekend off, ostensibly to do a job housesitting for a reclusive business person. Which was not a total lie, since Stinger did have a small business selling honey, and she was currently sitting in his house. Which was where she’d agreed to officially receive Balem Abrasax’s remaining assets: something about sitting in a large, comfortably shambly room filled with bees who would not sting _her_ but might turn on anyone who displeased her helped her deal with the fact that some of Balem’s assets were large, winged, scaly, green dinosaur men—people—things.

Two whole regiments of them, in fact. And there was the curious man with white hair, whose name on the list was Chicanery Night and who reminded Jupiter of nothing more than a rat crossed with a chicken. The last time she’d seen him he’d been smoothly offering her a tablet by which she could sign over the title of Earth to the disaster in black-and-glitter that was Balem Abrasax, and she was disinclined to trust or like him.

“Great,” she said, taking the pad and flicking through it. There were her new assets, just as he had said. She didn’t mind the cash: she wasn’t sure of the conversion rate, but she was reasonably certain that three million of anything was enough to secure herself her own apartment—maybe even a townhouse—of her very own.

No the problem was what to do with Chicanery Night, not to mention the two troop ships full of large, angry-looking dinosaur people. Caine had explained that they weren’t _slaves,_ not really. They were assets, and while they had no legal standing other than what Jupiter gave them, it was also her responsibility to maintain them. Jupiter had said that sounded a lot like slavery to her, and asked if she could just split the money between the assets and send them on their way. Caine had looked miserable and gone on to explain about the legal and social standing of “orphaned” assets—or lack thereof.

And there was the chariot. It had been parked in Stinger’s front yard, with the owner of said yard standing next to it and looking nauseous. Jupiter had seen why a moment later, and had to try very hard not to be sick herself.

Now she looked helplessly up at Caine, who had been standing beside her improvised desk the whole time, back straight and arms folded behind him, exuding a kind of quiet menace that was only slightly hampered by the cloud of bees which had taken to swarming around his head like fuzzy, buzzing halo. Turning his head (slowly, because of the bees), he gave a sort of half-shrug.

“The legion will never take him,” he said blandly, intuiting her unspoken question. “But he has legal training. You might sign him over to Captain Tsing.”

Jupiter felt her mouth open in horror at the thought.

“But I _like_ Captain Tsing,” she protested.

“If I may— _ahem_ —speak for myself,” Chicanery Night said, his nose twitching. “As a law professional I must state that I hold no grudge or ill-will against her majesty, and that I am prepared to serve her as faithfully as I did my previous master. If there was any animosity between her majesty and the late Mr Abrasax, it is no concern of mine and her majesty certainly has nothing to fear from any lingering… _hrrm…_ feelings of resentment.”

“Right,” said Jupiter, slowly. “About what you just called me.”

“You majesty?”

“Yeah, don’t call me that.”

Chicanery Night blinked twice, very fast. “Then how should I address your m—your highness?”

“Ma’am will do,” said Jupiter briskly, tapping the pad against the table. “And you’ll understand if I don’t believe you just yet. Actually, if you’re half as clever as you seem to think you are, this shouldn’t surprise you.”

Chicanery Night’s eyes narrowed and he turned his head slightly aside. There was something in his face that was not quite amusement and not quite disappointment and not quite respect, but it was the closest thing to an honest expression that Jupiter had yet to see on him.

“Do you think you’re clever, Mr Night?” she asked him, hard and direct.

He smiled a very small, very insidious smile. Unless that was just the unfortunate configuration of his face. It was hard to tell.

“I flatter myself that I am not lacking in the cerebral department,” he said after a moment.

“Good,” said Jupiter. “Because you can start earning my trust by getting that poor woman—thing—out of the chariot.”

The man opened his mouth to protest.

“ _Alive,_ ” Jupiter added, firmly.

“That may not be possible—” the man began.

“Mr Night, do you want to work for me or not?”

“I just wish your m—m—Ma’am, to understand that the results may not be what you desire, and if so—”

“If so I’ll be disappointed, won’t I? But I don’t think she’s at all happy living as she is so we might as well give it a shot, okay? Ask Stinger if you need anything.”

She looked down at the pad, not really reading it but hoping that Chicanery Night would take the hint and leave. When he did not, she glanced up and snapped at him:

“Well, what are you waiting for? _Go._ ”

Beside her, Caine let out a low but clearly audible growl, and the man actually squeaked a little as he jumped about and hurried out the door.

He nearly collided with Kiza, who was coming in with a pitcher of lemonade and a tray of peanut butter-and-honey sandwiches.

“Thought you could use some sustenance, majesty,” she said by way of explanation, setting the pitcher and tray down on the desk.

“Oh gosh, _thanks,_ ” said Jupiter, pouring herself a full glass of lemonade—it was a hot afternoon—and picking up a sandwich. “You want one?” she asked Caine, offering him a triangle.

Caine hesitated, caught between guard duty and his natural affection for anything edible. He’d halfway extended one hand when his shoulders tensed, wings mantling, and his head jerked toward the door and the growl started up again.

“Oh yeah,” said Kiza, casually. “There’s a big, green person, calls himself Gurnogheth, who wants to swear fealty to you or something—”

She didn’t get a chance to finish, because at that moment the big, green person walked through the door and Caine’s growl got loud enough Jupiter felt it vibrate in the table.

Gurgoneth looked exactly like the monster who had met them when they had returned to Earth to find Jupiter’s family missing, but considering Caine had killed that one this had to be someone else. He was certainly very much alive, and didn’t even look to be injured. He drew himself up as he came through the door, the crest of his scaly head nearly brushing the ceiling, and looked down at them with a frank air of judgement that Jupiter found almost refreshing—if a little terrifying.

“So,” he said. His voice couldn’t have been deeper and more gravelly if it had come from the bottom of the sea. It shook the floor beneath Jupiter’s feet. “You are the new Abrasax elder.”

Impossibly, Caine’s growling intensified.

Kiza threw up her hands. “Men. Mating rituals.” She rolled her eyes at Jupiter.

Gurnogheth rounded on Kiza, wings snapping angrily.

“I am no man!” he rumbled.

“Sorry,” said Kiza, unrepentant and unperturbed. She snagged a sandwich off the tray and bit into it. “ _Sargon-_ man.”

“Are you blind as well as rude?” asked Gurnogheth. “I am _female._ ”

Caine’s growling stopped with a sound like a surprised hiccup. Jupiter raised her eyebrows, but not  by much. In the broad scheme of things, this was one of the less shocking revelations.

Gurnogheth turned back to Caine.

“And you are the wolf who slew my captain,” she said, making a sound low in her throat like an iron anchor dragging through shale.

Caine stood still and said nothing, but Jupiter could sense him vibrating with restrained energy.

“He won his rank by being the strongest fighter in all the regiments,” Gurnogheth went on, her gaze murderous. Then she abruptly went down on one knee and ducked her gigantic head, making it clear she was bowing to both Caine and Jupiter. 

“On behalf of the Nargtarkh and Grar Regiments, I swear fealty to you, Caine Greeghanbane. We are yours to command.”

Caine, looking horrified, turned to Jupiter, who shrugged.

“Uh,” she said, to the back of Gurnogheth’s still-bowed head. “Don’t you technically belong to me?”

“ _Technically,_ ” said Gurnogheth, as though the word was a rotting dead thing she’d picked from between her teeth. “The sargons respect strength, not blood.”

“Then how the hell did you end up serving _Balem_?” Jupiter blurted out.

Gurnogheth only shrugged, however. “Strength comes in many forms,” she said diffidently.

“For what it’s worth, I beat him half to death with a pipe,” Jupiter pointed out.

Gurnogheth put her head on one side, almost like a bird, to think about this. “They did not tell me that,” she admitted. “I suppose it will do.”

“Do you like peanut butter-honey sandwiches?” Kiza asked. “I don’t think we can eat all of these ourselves.”

*

It was evening. The sargon troop ships— _Narghtarkh_ and _Grar_ —were half gold from the light of the setting sun, while their bulging lower decks were already in dim, blue shadow. They sat, like two giant, spiky caterpillars in the sea of ripening corn, while Chicanery Night’s shuttle perched like a delicate damselfly just beyond Stinger’s greenhouse. The bees were buzzing happily. Kiza had set up a grill in the back yard and was showing Gurnogheth’s lieutenant how to fry their protein rations in BBQ sauce, while around them winged, scaly bodies waited eagerly. From the back barn, where the chariot had been parked, there was silence—periodically broken by Chicanery Night’s bitten-off swears.

The three of them were sitting on the ridgeline of the farmhouse. Caine had taken off his uniform vest and was sunning his wings, while Stinger’s were clamped down under his shirt. Jupiter had seen them, though: they unfolded like origami paper and looked a bit like dragonfly wings.

She had just finished bringing Stinger up to speed on the afternoon’s events.

“You’re pulling my leg,” said Stinger, choking on a mouthful of ale.

“She did. Right there in the middle of the room,” said Jupiter. “On one knee and everything. For a second I thought she was gonna ask Caine to _marry_ her.”

“Good grief,” Caine groaned.

“Your _face_ though,” Jupiter said, unable to stop the laugh that was bubbling up inside her. “Your _face._ ”

“What about my face?” Caine asked, looking honestly perplexed.

“You just… oh god,” Jupiter had to break off to take a few steadying breaths. “Well, you probably looked like I did when that Chickeny guy promised he was trustworthy.”

“Congratulations, son,” said Stinger, reaching over and clapping Caine on the shoulder. “Told you you’d make captain, one day.”

“But I wasn’t _bred_ to be a leader,” Caine whined.

“And I wasn’t bred to be a father, yet here we are,” said Stinger, remorselessly cheerful. “Captain of the queen’s guard and work-from-home dad. Which, if you don’t mind me saying so, majesty, it’s actually a relief that the sargons came around. It’ll make securing your safety a lot easier if there ever are… complications.”

“I thought I was given a courtesy guard by the Legion on account of my status,” Jupiter said.

“You are,” said Stinger. “And I know the lieutenant in charge of the detail. Smasher’s a good girl in a tight spot, but to be honest, it helps to have auxiliary forces who are, well, more distinctive. Let’s put it that way.”

“Like seven feet of green, scaly, winged, toothy monster?” Jupiter suggested.

Stinger gave her a lopsided smile and shrugged, sipping at his ale. 

The last rays of the sun faded from the sky, and in their place the coolness of night settled in. Jupiter stretched, then shook herself.

“We should probably head out,” she said, poking Caine in the arm. “It would be nice to get home before midnight.”

“You are not flying to Chicago tonight, majesty,” Stinger said, deferential but firm.

“Aren’t I?” said Jupiter. “I didn’t want to impose any more…”

“Majesty, I have two ships full of highly trained sargons parked in my cornfield. I have my daughter feeding them out of my back yard. I have that sniveling rat locked up in my barn with the most disturbing piece of cyborg engineering I have ever seen. _You_ in my bedroom for one more night will hardly count.”

“Really?” said Jupiter, hopefully. In truth she had not been looking forward to the trip home—much as she liked night flying.

“ _Yes,_ ” said Stinger. “Now you go. Sleep. And you,” he said, reaching across and nudging Caine. “You deserve a full night’s rest. You leave the watch to me.”

“You and the bees,” Jupiter said, patting him on the shoulder.

Stinger gave her an unreadable look. It reminded her a bit of the expression Caine got when she did something un-royal: sort of wondrous and disbelieving.

“Aye, them too,” said Stinger, quietly.

“Good,” said Jupiter, throwing a leg over the spine of the roof and walking carefully toward the gable. “Come on, Caine,” she said, for the other man had still not left his position. “Give me a lift down, would you?”

He came, sweeping her up bridal style with the smooth assurance of experience, and carried her down in a gentle arc, curving around so they landed just as they passed through the open front door—Caine folding his wings at the last minute to land with only the softest of bumps.

Jupiter couldn’t suppress a giggle. “You’re getting good at that,” she said, wiggling in his arms.

He did not put her down.

“I was always good at it, Your Majesty,” he said softly. “I’m just getting better.”

“Mm,” said Jupiter, hooking an arm behind his neck and reaching up to kiss him, light and casual. Her body felt pleasantly warm and languid, but there was still a nervous energy thrumming in her veins from the stress of the day. A day spent in exercise that was mental rather than physical. It had left her feeling tight and sour inside, and those unpleasant feelings were only now beginning to abate, leaving behind a jittery _want_ of something.

Which something was currently cupping her head and kissing her back with bruising force and that just…

…well, that just did it.

“Take me to bed,” she whispered in his ear.

“Yes, Majesty.”

His voice was felt more than heard: a hot gust of wet air on her cheek, her neck.

“What did you just say?”

“I said _yes,_ Your Majesty.”

“Mm.” She kissed him again, this time on the sensitive tip of his pointed ear. “Good boy,” she whispered into it.

Feeling the powerful body that was currently supporting her entire weight shudder beneath her was both thrilling and a little terrifying; it ignited a curl of fire in her belly that flickered into life—like the first flakes of kindling taking light under a bonfire.

They were moving through the house now, passing through doorways and along corridors until they reached the den of soft chairs that served as Stinger’s bedroom, and the big bed that was more of a wicker frame filled with blankets than a conventional bed.

Caine set her on the edge of it, coming to kneel between her legs, where he rested his hands on her thighs and looked up at her, his expression cautiously hopeful.

“Will there be anything else, Majesty?” he asked.

For answer, Jupiter kissed him again, putting a hand on either side of his head and turning it slightly so she could coax his mouth open with her tongue and push inside. The taste of him, especially after the sweet sandwiches and lemonade, was a heady sort of shock: at once grounding and electrifying. She sucked it in, relishing the savory, earthy flavor and the tingly aftertaste.

“Yes,” she said when she could use her mouth to make words again. “Yes, Caine, there will be so many other things.” 

“Anything Your Majesty wants,” Caine said, and although his face was still guarded, his eyes were shining with hope. But it was hope tinged with disbelief, as though it was he who thought he was dreaming this time.

Jupiter cupped his face in her hands and pressed their foreheads together, willing the fire—which had spread, like a rising bird—down inside her. If they were going to do this, she’d decided, they were going to do it right.

“Caine,” she whispered, and his eyes fluttered shut at the touch of her breath. He tilted his face up, as if basking in her presence, and it was too fucking much.

“Caine,” she repeated, more firmly this time.

Blue eyes opened, so close that she could see the little flecks of darker blue streaking the irises, all the more striking for the perfect black eyeliner. They held her gaze with reverence, but also gravity. She had his attention. Good.

“I want so many things,” she went on. “So, so many things. I want things from you. I want to do things _to_ you. And to be honest some of them kinda scare me.”

A grave nod. One of his huge hands tightened momentarily on her thigh; a reassuring squeeze, as if to say, “I’m here, don’t be afraid.” She couldn’t help smiling.

“Remember when I explained what most Earth people think sex is like?”

Another nod.

“That’s not what I want.”

No visible reaction this time, but there was a tenseness in his shoulders and an intensity in his gaze that stoked the fire in her belly. It made it difficult to concentrate.

“I want…” she began, and stopped. It was partly deciding where to start, but another part of her still had trouble putting voice to the desires she’d felt all her life. Desires that she had carefully denied—until now.

“Anything Your Majesty wants,” Caine whispered, “just tell me.” Now he was leaning forward into her space, rounding his shoulders and extending his neck; a sign of supplication. 

Jupiter had to physically shake her head to get her thoughts back in order.

“I want you,” she said, as sternly as she could manage, “to tell me to stop if I _ever_ do anything that hurts, or that you don’t like.”

Caine rocked back and blinked at her, bewildered.

“I told you,” he said, sounding a little hurt. “I just want”—he swallowed—“I just want to be… worthy of you. To please you. That _you_ want…” His words were coming out in jerks, and Jupiter had to practically bite her tongue; it was almost painful to watch. “That you want… _me._ It’s more than I could ever ask for. It’s more than I—”

“ _Caine,_ ” Jupiter cut in, because she could not let him finish that sentence. She knew what it was and she wasn’t sure she could hear that right now. “Caine, this is something I want. I _want_ you to be able to say no to me. I want you to tell me to stop—if you need to.”

“I—” Caine began, but Jupiter was at the end of her patience. She had always been prone to doing stupid things when she got impatient, so it was really no surprise what she did next.

Because on a list of stupid things to do, grabbing your (angel-wolf-space-soldier) boyfriend’s ear and _twisting_ it had to be in the upper half at least.

Caine jerked his head back—a pure, thoughtless reaction. Jupiter held on. He froze, staring at her in surprise and confusion. She twisted harder.

“Go on,” she said. “Tell me to stop.”

“But, Majesty—”

“ _Tell me to stop!_ ” She gave a sharp yank, and half of her thrilled to see him wince and submit to the treatment—the other half cried.

“I don’t—”

“I want you,” she said, practically shouting into the ear she was holding, “to tell me to—”

“ _Stop?_ ” His voice was a hoarse rasp, barely audible, but it sent a cool wash of relief through her bones and she released his ear so suddenly his head bobbed upright—she’d pulled it sideways onto his shoulder. Now he was staring at her, and there was something behind the faint annoyance that he was trying to project. Something close to shocked terror. That had been something he’d be specifically trained _not_ to do, and even if his mind told him otherwise, his body expected to be punished for it.

Jupiter practically fell into his arms as she embraced him.

“That’s a good boy,” she breathed into his ear, and he let out a shuddering breath. She reached up and gently massaged the flesh she had so recently abused, dropping a kiss on his jaw, just above his beard. “That’s my good boy.”

His arms came up behind her, hands tracing delicately across her back. The fact that those hands themselves were anything but delicate only fanned the fire which was now spreading freely from her core and out her limbs. She pulled away, just far enough to meet his eyes, and found him gazing at her with a faintly stunned expression.

“Was that… okay?” he whispered.

Momentarily at a loss for words, Jupiter just nodded. “Yes,” she managed. “Yes, that’s very okay.”

“I can say the word no, you know,” he said, and there was a little of that rare coyness in his eyes. It was only a glint of playfulness, but it was there.

“Yeah,” said Jupiter, beginning to feel her way down his neck, gently tracing the raised flesh of his brand before sweeping down over his bare shoulders. “Yeah, I trust you.”

Really. She trusted him to catch her when she fell. She could trust him with this, too.

“If that is so,” he said, his voice back to its normal, deep rumble. “I want Your Majesty to tell me what it is she wants now.”

Jupiter let out an undignified snort of laughter and buried her face in his neck. Just for a moment. Just long enough to regain some composure.

“Well,” she said when she pulled away. “It’s kind of complicated. Maybe… maybe it would be easier if I just… showed you?”

“Mmm.” Caine was nosing at her own neck, pressing gentle, licking kisses down her throat. “I would”—lick, suck—“I would like that.”

“Okay,” said Jupiter, taking a breath. She pushed herself away so she was standing. With him still on his knees it put his head at about her chest height. Which was, she decided, a good place for his head to be. They would have to revisit this position—but later.

“Sit,” she told him.

Obediently he sank back to rest on his heels. She bent and stroked him gently on the cheek, running her hand down to caress his neck.

“Stay,” she told him, and then walked over to the adjoining bathroom, where she’d left her travel bag.

If she had expected to have this opportunity she would have put some _very_ different things in it, but as it was there were certain essentials she never traveled without. The keys-wallet-phone of personal effects: ibuprofen, sanitary pads, condoms, and her tiny-but-powerful bullet vibrator.

She came out of the bathroom with the last two items tucked into the back pocket of her jeans to find Caine still kneeling where she’d left him; his back to her, facing the bed—though he cocked an ear in her direction to indicate he was aware of her presence.

Jupiter didn’t go to him right away, however. She found herself staring at his wings, which had been drawn in and folded neatly down his back. The soft, brown feathers were almost a velvet black in the dim, yellow light from the single lamp on the bedside table, and they glimmered faintly with a coppery sheen. Quite a contrast from his pale, pinkish skin, but that was really the only sign that they were an aftermarket addition, as it were, and not something he had been born with. Caine moved and walked differently now he had wings again; where he had been powerful and graceful before, now he also seemed more relaxed and intense at the same time. Confident, that was the difference. The wings gave him a confidence that was apparent even when they were tightly folded against his back and he was kneeling on the floor, waiting.

Waiting for _her._

Jupiter swallowed, trying to force the fire inside her into a manageable state, and crossed the room cautiously, as if she didn’t want to frighten him.

Which was utterly ridiculous, because she could have leapt on his back while yelling like Tarzan and he wouldn’t have budged.

 _Note to self: must try that some time,_ she thought as she came to stand directly behind him. Her hands settled on his shoulders (he shivered at the sensation, but didn’t startle; he’d known where she was the entire time), before drifting down his back, and then pausing.

“Can I touch them?” she asked. 

“Yeah,” came the response. Simple, almost amused. Caine tilted his head so he could regard her with one blue eye. “Your Majesty may touch me anywhere you please.”

God damn but that made her hands claw at his skin. Caine sucked in a breath through his teeth, but he seemed pleased.

“That’s good to know,” said Jupiter, unclenching her hands so she could run them down, threading her fingers among the rich, brown feathers and stroking.

Caine made a noise like someone had just punched him, and she nearly tore her hands away. As it was she held herself very still, and asked, “Did that hurt?”

“No,” said Caine, his voice gone weak and surprised. “I just… no one’s ever touched them like that before.”

“Oh,” said Jupiter in a small voice. Then, “Was it good?”

“Yes,” said Caine, still sounding a little surprised. 

“ _Good,_ ” said Jupiter, digging her fingers in again. No sudden gasps this time, but a faint, barely-audible groan. Oh good gods.

“Open them up,” she said, fitting her hands in the center of his back and pressing out, encouraging him.

He spread himself slowly, cautiously, the wings unfolding piece by piece, and not to their full breadth. Just as well—the room couldn’t contain them if he did. As it was Jupiter got to see the almost puzzle-like way they fit together; how the primaries stayed locked under the secondaries so wings that had a fore to aft length of almost three feet could be condensed down to one. She ran her hands along the top ridge, where the metal components gleamed, out to the fullest extent of her own arms, and then traced the feathers down to their tips.

“These are gorgeous,” she said, leaning forward to drop the words into Caine’s ear.

“Yeah,” he said, sounding a little dazed. “I know.”

“You are gorgeous,” she added, and kissed him, right on his brand.

This time all she got in response was a small choking sound.

“Come on,” she said, sliding her hands down so they rested on his waist, just above the line of his pants. His skin was cool to the touch at first, but quickly warmed under her palms. She could feel him breathing, like this. It was a nice sensation.

If Caine was breathing, everything was fine.

“Can you lie on your back, like this? With your wings out?” she asked.

A jerky nod.

“Then come on,” she said, running her hands up his front and pulling him against her. He leaned back, and she felt his abdominal muscles straining under her fingers. Even now he wasn’t putting his full weight on her. Well, they would work on that. For now she guided him down until his shoulders were flat on the floor—wings stretched out to either side, hands resting by his hips, knees still bent and feet tucked under—and she had his head bracketed by her own knees. She grinned at his upside-down face, and thought how nice it would be to run a finger from the tip of his nose up between his eyes and across his brow. So she did.

He blinked up at her, bemused.

“I think,” she said, feeling a crafty smile growing across her face, “it’s time you showed me how to get your boots off.”

“Oh,” said Caine, and his face looked odder than ever. A second later Jupiter realized this was because there was a blush spreading across his cheeks. She reached down and patted them, gently.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll do all the heavy lifting.”

Leaving her position at his head she stepped nimbly over his outstretched wings, coming around so she could pry his feet out from under him.

He gave them to her willingly, like everything else he did, held his right one aloft so she could sit cross-legged under it, before resting it in her lap.

Outwardly his were not unlike her own gravity boots: a hard, supportive shell that reached almost to the knee, which was secured by a series of clasps along the outside. These undone, however, the boot did not slide off like hers did: rather the shell opened like a clam’s, revealing the hem of his pants, which when pushed back revealed an inner layer to the boots: a tight mesh interlaced with wires and a few circular patches that looked like plugs.

“Okay,” said Jupiter, looking toward Caine’s face for guidance. “Where do I go from here?”

Caine, who’d raised his head so he could stare down at the proceedings, frowned a little.

“I have to disconnect them from my cybro implants. Give me a minute.”

It was less than a minute. Jupiter felt a little hum go through the wires, and the circular plugs glowed blue for a moment, then receded.

“Okay, you can pull them off now. Just apply pressure and the jacks release.”

Jupiter didn’t understand what that meant until she pushed at one of the circular plugs, and she felt something pop inside the cuff. Once she’d done this to all of them (there were three), the mesh itself loosened, and she was able to slide the double-layered boot off Caine’s foot.

The leg underneath was as pale as the rest of him, and there were indeed indentations on his lower calf, analogous to where the plugs had been. In the center of each one was a little bronze disk with an articulated flap, clearly protecting a tiny aperture.

“Jeez,” she breathed. “That’s intense.”

“It’s standard issue for Skyjackers,” Caine said, simply.

“Yeah, well,” Jupiter at last bothered to look down, at the appendage revealed by the removal of the boot, and wondered why it felt more intimate looking at his naked foot than it did looking at him with his shirt off.

Setting the giant boot aside she gently stroked a finger down, over his arch, and ended by running it under his toes—which were maybe a little longer than normal, with short, severely trimmed nails. She felt him shiver, and moved on to the other foot.

The second boot came off a quicker, and after that it was like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She practically crawled up his legs and went at the clasp of his pants with a vengeance. Only when she heard the satisfying _click_ and felt the material parting under her hands did she slow down to savor the sensation of Caine obligingly lifting his pelvis so she could work the pants off his hips and pull them down his legs.

Pants successfully removed and deposited with the discarded boots, Jupiter stared down in perplexity at what was underneath.

“What?” asked Caine, not so much embarrassed as honestly mystified.

“You call _that_ underwear?” she asked.

“No, actually,” he said. “It’s called under- _armor._ ”

“Oh,” said Jupiter. She frowned at the tightly contoured black fabric which encased Caine’s lower half from his hips to his upper calves. It had a faintly ribbed quality, and though it was tight enough to leave precious little to the imagination, it was also thoroughly opaque.

“How do I get it off?” she asked. 

Caine gave a small sigh, and smiled very slightly.

“There are clasps,” he said, motioning toward his hips. “Or you can peel them off.”

Jupiter went with the impatient method. In retrospect, the clasps would probably have been a better idea: the under-armor was stretchy, but clingy, and it got tangled up around his feet so that it wasn’t until she’d thrown it triumphantly on the pile of pants and boots that she was able to examine what had been under it.

When she did it was with a mixture of excitement and frustration.

Excitement, because he was—if she had to guess—only half hard but already forming a pleasing shape.

Frustrating, because Jupiter was pretty certain there were no condoms on Earth that would fit him.

She couldn’t help an ironic smile.

“Okay,” she said. “I guess you do have a lot of dog in you.”

“I did say,” Caine pointed out, part smug, part fearful.

Jupiter was suddenly struck by the fact that she had him on his back, arms, legs, and even _wings_ spread out for her, stark naked. And she hadn’t even unbuttoned her shirt. It made her feel a little dizzy with power, but she could imagine how vulnerable he felt.

So she smiled reassuringly and crawled up, pushing his legs together so she could straddle his thighs and stroked, gently but firmly, up over his hip and along his hardening cock.

He whine, faint and high, and turned his head to one side, as if the sight was too much.

Jupiter stilled, her hand still on him, feeling the blood begin to throb under her palm.

“You said everywhere,” she reminded him.

“Yes,” breathed Caine, staring resolutely at the wall.

“Caine, look at me,” she said.

A slight hesitation, and then he dragged his face around, eyes following reluctantly, then widening at the sight of her firm, brown hand on his dusky red dick.

“Good boy,” Jupiter said, and curled her fingers around him, smiling as she saw his mouth open in a silent “ _Oh._ ”

For all the differences, he was still the same basic shape as every other man she’d been with. A comparatively long, slender phallus of smooth skin with a noticeable bulb at the tip, the biggest difference was the sheath from which it emerged, which was of rougher, thicker skin, and covered almost half his length. It was in turn covered by a fine coat of wispy, pale yellow hair, soft to the touch. As she stroked him—and she was pleased to note his physiology apparently provided its own lubrication—the sheath continued to retract and the phallus continued to extend, until he might have passed for human. In bad light: the veins around the base, just above the sheath, were very thick and encircled the organ in a way that looked inhumanly delightful.

In Jupiter’s considered opinion he looked like the best ride she’d ever encountered, and she could have cried for the missed opportunity.

“Something wrong?” Caine asked, and Jupiter realized she’d begun to frown sourly, even as she gave him a distracted hand job.

“No, sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s just”—she gave him a slow, hard stroke that sent his eyelids fluttering—“I was kinda looking forward to riding you and… well… I don’t think I have any condoms that would fit.”

“What is a—” Caine began, then frowned, as if dredging up some long-lost piece of information. “Oh. You mean a contraceptive barrier.”

“Uh… yeah,” said Jupiter, easing off a little. But only a little. She liked the way the color rose so prominently in Caine’s cheeks, the way his breath caught in his throat when she pressed against the veins at the base of his cock, but now he was looking at her soberly, and she could tell his mind was elsewhere. Or at least trying to be.

“Yeah,” he said, thickly. “We won’t need that.”

If Jupiter had a dollar for every time she’d heard a guy say that she’d never have considered Cousin Vladdie’s repulsive scheme to sell her eggs. But there was something in Caine’s tone and in his expression that she’d never seen before. He wasn’t being selfish or pig-headed or just ignorant, the way the others had been. There was a finality to his words, and a sense of… regret? Sadness? Jupiter couldn’t tell, so she asked.

“Why not?”

Caine looked uncomfortably down and away. Then he gave a little shrug, and said, “Stinger told you I was the runt of my litter.”

“He might have said something about that, yeah,” said Jupiter, softly.

“Yeah, well,” Caine clenched his jaw unhappily. “They don’t let runts breed.”

It was surprising to Jupiter, upon later reflection, that despite everything she’d learned about the universe it still took a moment for this to sink in. When it did she looked backed down at his crotch in perplexity. She had mostly been occupied by his dick, true, but his balls were very much present and appeared to be fully loaded. They were comparatively normal, in fact.

“They didn’t cut me,” Caine sighed, seeing her look. “They just… well. It’s procedure. All genomically suboptimal splices are…” he trailed off, unable to get the word out. He didn’t have to, though. Jupiter reached up (with the hand that had not been on his dick) and pressed a finger against his mouth.

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

Caine shrugged.

“No, really. What they did to you—that’s not okay.”

Caine looked at her very seriously, something scared but determined behind the blueness of his eyes. “No, Jupiter,” he whispered against her hand. “It has to be okay.”

Jupiter shook her head. “No, no. I mean, _I_ don’t care if you’re shooting blanks or not—I mean I do, it makes a difference, but I’m fine either way. But Caine, it’s _never_ okay for someone to hurt you, or change you, without your consent.”

Caine just closed his eyes, dropping his head back to the floor. But he exhaled in what seemed to be relief, and a tremor went through his body, as if some stress had been released.

Jupiter sighed, and went back to stroking his dick, which was turning a truly impressive shade of red and had, if possible, gotten even longer.

“I’m still not fucking you without a condom,” she said, regretfully. “It’s not just pregnancy a girl has to watch out for. You do not know how many guys I’ve had tell me they were clean, when really—”

“I highly doubt that, in the unlikely event that I have managed to acquire such a disease, that it would be something which could be transmitted to you,” Caine interrupted.

“Yeah, but you don’t _know,_ ” said Jupiter, but she was smiling. “Besides, I could have some super-Earth cooties that will—I dunno—make your feathers fall out.”

Caine groaned. She’d worked her way up to the head of his cock and was rubbling the bulb with her thumb. There was a tiny slit in its center, which was weeping a slick, pearly fluid.

His hands clenched into fists, and squeezing his eyes shut he spoke slowly, as though each word required a superhuman amount of concentration.

“First Aid kit. Under the bed. Free-form sanitary barrier. Should work.”

Jupiter raised her eyebrows. Now there was a thought.

“Stay,” she said, giving him one last tug before drawing back.

“Yes, Majesty.”

 _It had better work,_ Jupiter thought viciously as she found the little black box and popped it open. The things inside were all literally alien to her, but the sanitary barriers she recognized: they came in little pouches similar to the emergency pressure suits, and she guessed they deployed in a similar way. So she grabbed two— _Note to self: restock Stinger’s bedroom First Aid kit_ —and cracked one against her left hand. Sure enough, it split, releasing a thick gel which globbed onto her hand before flowing over her fingers and tightening into a sheer, transparent glove. Wiggling her fingers, Jupiter discovered it moved with her skin perfectly, and when she put her hands together she found she could feel things through it almost as though it wasn’t there.

It would do.

She looked back over at Caine, who was lying obediently just as she left him—though now his hands were in fists at his side, his toes were curling, and his dick was a hard, red line reaching up past his navel. There was a faint gleam on his abdomen where some of the fluid had leaked out. He was staring up at the ceiling, his cheeks flaming, but tensed in a way that suggested his jaw was clenched. The only thing about him that looked remotely relaxed were his wings, which were still spread, open and trusting, to either side of him.

Jupiter took extreme care not to tread on them as she stepped swiftly over, sitting carefully on his chest and setting the remaining barrier pack beside his hip. Pulling off her own shoes and socks she smiled down at him as he watched her; fascinated, hopeful, and still just a little unbelieving.

“So,” she said, grinning. “How good are you with your mouth?”

Caine blinked at her. “I’m… okay?” he said, uncertain.

“Mmm, I bet you’re more than okay,” Jupiter said, running a hand up to cup his jaw, tilting his head down so she could trace his lips with her thumb. He opened for her without being asked, licking gently at her thumb as she pushed it slowly into his mouth.

His mouth. Which was hot and wet and giving, with the slightest hint of teeth. Jupiter sighed almost regretfully as she pulled her hand back, Caine’s head rising slightly, unwilling to let it go. There would be more of that, she reminded herself, and better.

With her other hand she reached into the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out the little bullet, holding it up so the silver surface caught the light.

“Now, do you know what this is?” she asked.

Caine frowned. His gaze had gone a little undirected and hazy, and Jupiter took pity on him.

“This little guy is one of my best friends,” she said. “And pretty soon, he’s going to be one of yours, too.” She pressed the button at the blunt end of the bullet, setting it humming. Almost casually, she reached over and tapped the tip of it against Caine’s lips.

“Open,” she said, when he only looked puzzled.

He did, though a little hesitantly, and she promptly stuck the vibrator between his lips. He gave a small, surprised whimper at that, and looked up at her questioningly.

“Good boy,” she whispered, and stood up. Putting one bare foot in the center of his chest she finally undid her own pants, and proceeded to get them off—along with her underwear—as quickly as possible. There were times to be sexy about taking off your clothes, and then there were times when you just needed to be naked as soon as possible.

In this case, it was the latter.

Moving to straddle him, she sank down onto his chest again, gasping a little as she felt their bare skin meet. His hands came up, but only to rest on her thighs and guide her down, and they stayed resolutely at her hips—even though he only had to spread his fingers in order to grope her ass.

He was breathing faster now, and from her new vantage point Jupiter _felt_ his breath hitch as she stripped off her shirt and unsnapped her bra.

Letting the last of her clothes land in a heap at their side she took his huge hands and guided them up her sides and across her chest. She felt them twitch as his palms brushed across her breasts, and let out a satisfied sigh. His hands were big and hot and strong and utterly pliant to her touch, moving at the slightest indication, but not hesitating to hold her where she set them. With this in mind she pushed them back down again, around her waist and further down, under her rear, to help support her weight as she crawled forward so that she was straddling his neck instead of his chest. His arms came up, providing a makeshift seat and leaving room for her to tuck her feet next to his shoulders.

 _I am a fucking queen on her throne,_ Jupiter thought, and couldn’t help an undignified giggle as she reached down and took the vibrator out of Caine’s mouth.

A gasped “ _Majesty,_ ” was the first word out of it, followed by a low, rumbling moan as she sank down further.

“Go on,” she said, reaching between her legs—fingers brushing Caine’s nose—and carefully rubbing some of her own slick up and around, feeling her clit, which was already swollen and happily full. “Show me what you can do.”

Caine looked up at her from between her thighs—and _that_ was a sight she would take with her to her far-flung space grave—his eyebrows knitted in confusion. His breath was hot on her, fast and ragged. From the way his hands were clenching convulsively around her ass this was something he desperately wanted, but still didn’t quite believe he was allowed to have.

Jupiter smiled at him. “Kiss me,” she said.

Caine’s expression solidified into one of intense determination, and then it was half buried in the tangle of dark curls between her legs as he leaned up and kissed her with everything he had.

His hands gripped her rear, pulling her down onto him, tilting her hips so he could find the best angle from which to thrust his tongue up into her, curling it deliciously before dragging it out with excruciating slowness. He licked a broad strip from her taint to her clit, before closing his lips around the fat little nub, pressing it gently to his upper incisors and _growling._

“Gunh,” said Jupiter, eloquently. The presence of the noise, emanating as it did from such a sensitive area of her body, was enough to send the fire roaring up inside her. That, and it provided a subtle vibration that made her insides twist. She felt around distractedly with her free hand until she found his hair, and stroked it.

“Gnnn…” she tried again. Took another breath. “ _Good_ boy,” she managed, at last.

Caine’s response was to tremble beneath her and press, if possible, even closer. Then he pulled away a fraction so he could slide his tongue between her labia and started working his way down again.

Jupiter groaned, and slid the vibrator to rest against the side of her clit, shivering as the she was assaulted by sensations from both outside and in—for Caine’s tongue had returned, and was pressing insistently against her g-spot. Jupiter felt herself clench down on him automatically—he growled—and her mind went temporarily unhitched.

She was aware of one large hand leaving her ass to snake up and around, so her right thigh was held in the crook of his arm and he could pry the vibrator our of her hand.

Jupiter whined at the loss, and then whined louder when he pressed it back into her, sliding it slowly across her clit in a way that made her want to scream.

Then his tongue did something inside her. Something between a curl and a thrust, followed by a lot, slow _slide._ At the same time he got the vibrator right up against the underside of her clit and pressed it close, his breath washing warmly over her.

His eyes were closed, his brow knotted in concentration, the muscles of his shoulders straining. There was a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead, and the tips of his ears were flushed pink. 

Jupiter reached down and traced the strange markings on his right shoulder, and his whole arm shook. Then his eyes opened and they were so, _so_ blue, and so full of adoration and amazement and outright worship that Jupiter heard the “ _Your Majesty,_ ” even though he could not possibly have said it aloud.

Time seemed to slow as they locked gazes. Jupiter felt like her head was suffused with a warm, golden glow, and she was floating in it, weightless and serene.

Then his tongue _moved_ inside her, and the moment of peace was broken by a faint rumble in her core, which grew like an avalanche until it was a thundering force, wracking her body and causing her to grind down on Caine’s face—he whimpered, but it forced his tongue even more deeply inside her—even as she felt the vibrator slip. She was caught up in the crashing waves of her climax by then, convulsing freely, powerless to stop it even if she’d wanted to, and letting the words out of her in a long, breathy moan.

“That’s a goo-oo-ooh-ood boy…”

She toppled forward, lifting herself off his face a fraction as the aftershocks coursed through her, sending faint shudders down her limbs each time she felt his breath on her oversensitive clit.

“Fuck,” she said.

“Your Majesty does have a way with words,” Caine said, his voice only slightly muffled.

Jupiter had to laugh. She was feeling light and bubbly and pleasantly warm all over as she pushed herself back to sit on his chest again, smiling down at him lazily.

“Let’s see if you can say anything half as coherent when _you’re_ coming,” she said, running a hand fondly down his cheek. Which was wet. Wet from _her._ His lips were flushed almost as red as his cock and were practically shining. She wiped a stray drop from his nose, then bent down and kissed it.

“You have been _so_ good,” she whispered. “I should give you a reward.”

His right arm had gotten rather tangled up in her leg, but he managed to pull her knee forwards far enough to kiss it, gently.

“You already have,” he said, giving her a soft, fragile smile.

“Huh-uh,” said Jupiter, beginning to get her head back. She was still happily warm all over but there was a twisting sort of itch inside her that was begging _more, more_ , and she knew exactly where this was going. “We are so not done here.” She pulled her leg free and turned right around on his chest—again, careful not to kick his wings—and grabbed up the barrier pack from beside his hip. Considering the test one she’d put on her hand had held up perfectly—and was so thin she’d forgotten she was wearing it—she was confident she knew what she was doing here.

It was a nice feeling, she decided.

His cock was hard and red, and had leaked a pearly pool of fluid over his abdomen. Jupiter couldn’t resist scooping it up and rubbing it up and down the shaft, before massaging some—very gently—into his balls.

Caine inhaled sharply at the same time as he said “ _Ma-aajesty—_ ” and then let the breath out in a whine.

“You have a gorgeous dick,” Jupiter told him matter-of-factly, cracking the pack open and coaxing the barrier over the organ in question. “Anyone ever tell you that?”

Caine shuddered, his hands coming up to rest on Jupiter’s thighs.

“No,” he said quietly.

“Really?” Jupiter was so surprised she twisted her head around to glance at him over her shoulder.

He was gazing at her back, his eyes glazed and his nostrils flaring.

“Really,” he repeated. “No one’s ever—” his words were cut off by a sharp hiss as Jupiter’s hands began to stroke him distractedly. She felt his hands twitch on her thighs, and his hips jerked—the first sign of a loss of control on his part. Jupiter felt inordinately proud of herself.

Then a truly wicked thought occurred.

“Caine?” she said, turning back so she could concentrate on massaging his dick, warming the barrier so that it would feel like nothing to him.

“Yes Majesty?” came the breathless response from behind her.

“Can you still tell me to stop?”

A long, high whine was the only answer.

“Caine? Can you?” Another slow, strong pull from root to tip, and his hips were visibly shaking now.

“Yes.”

Another stroke; Caine whimpered.

“Prove it.”

“Please, Majesty—”

“ _Prove_ it.”

“Please stop.” It came out as a hoarse whisper, but Jupiter dropped his cock at once and turned around to face him.

“No, no, please _don’t_ stop—Majesty— _please_ —keep going—I’ll be good, I’ll be _good_ —”

The words came pouring out of him in a torrent; his hands were off her—he had thrown his arms outward to rest above his wings, which were twitching, a few pinions fully extended. His eyes were screwed shut; he looked ragged and wrecked and Jupiter dove down and planted a kiss on his mouth to stop the flow of words.

He opened for her, sweet and willing as always, an extra tang on his tongue that Jupiter recognized as her own. It gave her an unexpected thrill, tasting _herself_ mixed with him.

The kiss could not stop the sounds, though: he was managing a sort of whining growl, interspersed with whimpers.

“Shh, shh,” she shushed him, cupping his face with her hands, kissing the corner of his mouth; his cheek. “You are good, Caine. Caine, you’re _so_ good. I got you, okay? I got you.”

Slowly his eyes opened, and they were startlingly bright from all the wetness in them.

“Majesty,” he rasped. “ _Please._ ”

“I got you,” Jupiter repeated, kissing the tears off his face, whispering into his ear. “Said I’d give you a reward. How would you like to be inside me, Caine? _All_ the way in.”

Caine’s mouth parted, but in full on astonishment, and his face had gone blank in that problematic way Jupiter really didn’t like.

“Majesty—I don’t… I don’t deserve that,” he said. 

Jupiter felt her expression, which had been flushed and playful, melt into seriousness. The sweeping fire inside her suddenly shrank—but without losing any of its heat. Now it was a concentrated flame—like the spitting end of a blow torch—and it drove her on to cut through whatever bullshit ideas had been hammered into Caine’s head.

“ _I’ll_ decide what you deserve, Caine,” she said, her own voice almost a snarl. “Who’s your queen?”

A gulp.

“You are.”

“Damn right I am. And you’ll take whatever I give you.”

His eyes closed, both in relief and submission.

“Yes.”

The fire practically _sang_ in Jupiter’s veins.

“Yes you will,” she whispered in his ear, catching the tip between her teeth and biting gently. “And I’ve decided you deserve _this_ …” 

Reaching behind her she found his cock, pushed herself back and then sat up so she could slide down onto it— _very_ slowly.

He wasn’t the thickest man she’d taken, but he was a lot longer, and she had to adjust the angle of her pelvis several times before she found one that would accommodate his length. Once she did, however, it was like a puzzle piece sliding home, and she was able to push herself flush against his balls, resting on her knees, shuddering as she felt the pressure inside her send rippling shocks up her belly.

Caine threw his head back, his spine arching as he made a sound like a choked howl. His hands reached up, caught on her knees, and rested there, fingers stiff and clawed.

“You feel this?” Jupiter asked, clenching down on him as hard as she could. Caine practically _writhed_ under her, and oh it was _so_ delightful. “You deserve this, Caine.”

He gulped air, inhaled raggedly, then let it out in a keening whine.

Jupiter leaned forward until their bodies were pressed together. Like that she could just reach far enough to kiss him, and she did, slow and gentle, beginning to rock her own hips forward and back.

“You deserve this,” she repeated. “Do you know why?”

She didn’t expect him to answer, but Caine put out an extreme effort, and gasped, “Why?”

Jupiter grinned. “It’s ’cause you’re a _good_ boy.”

Oh. The full-body shudder was even _better_ when a part of him was buried deep inside her. Jupiter felt like her insides were melting: Caine’s natural preferred angle pushed his cock toward the front of her pelvis, so every slide brought a delicious friction against her sweet spot. Everything was a happy, golden buzz and she felt like she could do anything.

She grabbed at his chest, pressing her thumbs hard into his nipples and rubbing circles around them. Caine tossed head sideways, his own hands sliding up and clawing at her thighs. That just encouraged her to grind down on him even harder.

“I wanna hear you say it,” she said, a little breathless herself. “Who’s a good boy? _Say_ it,” she added, when Caine just moaned.

“I—” he began, still with his head turned aside.

“ _Look_ at me when you say it,” Jupiter commanded, pulling herself almost completely off him but squeezing tight around his enlarged tip so that he couldn’t slip free. And _that_ felt delightful in its own way.

Caine rolled his head to gaze up at her, eyes bright and wet and completely overwhelmed.

“I am,” he gasped, as though he couldn’t believe the sounds he was making.

“You’re a _what?_ ” Jupiter goaded him, pressing down a little.

Caine squeezed his eyes shut, but to his credit he opened them again and held her gaze as he said, a little brokenly:

“I’m a good boy.”

“Oh _yes_ you are,” Jupiter told him, stroking his face as she sank down the rest of the way and held him there, safe inside as she felt another wave of convulsions pass through her. She was making some not-very-dignified whining noises herself at this point, but didn’t care.

Suddenly his hands were under her thighs and he was lifting her up.

“Please, Majesty—I can’t,” he whispered, very fast. “Not inside you, I can’t— _please_ —no—” 

Jupiter blinked at him dumbly, but even through the golden haze in her mind two things were very clear.

Caine had said no.

She hadn’t done anything about that.

“Fuck, sorry,” she wheezed, and gently pulled herself off him and rolled aside. “What’s wrong?”

Caine didn’t answer, but sat up, pulling his wings in and grabbing himself roughly. He’d gone silent as he jerked himself, and wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“Caine,” she whispered, laying one of her hands over his. “Here, let me help, at least.”

Caine let his hand fall away, ceding the action to hers as she pressed herself close to his side. He turned his face into her neck and said in a voice that was more of a sob than anything else, “I’m sorry—I just can’t.”

“I know,” sighed Jupiter, pulling on him fiercely. “It’s okay.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered. Gasped. “I never want to hurt you.” He was so close, Jupiter could practically feel the tension coiling inside him, but something was still holding him back. Some block that was probably more mental than anything else. She could sympathize.

“It’s okay,” she said, sparing her unoccupied arm—which had been pinned between their bodies—to wrap around his shoulders. Or try to—between his wings and the sheer breadth of the man she could barely reach. “You’re not gonna hurt me. You did good—you’re a good boy. Come on, Caine, you can do this. Just let go.” Her hand was moving so fast now her arm was going to start cramping if she kept it up much longer. So she turned her head, biting at the shell of his ear before speaking directly into it.

“You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you, big boy? Come on, come for your queen.”

He was shaking against her, breathing hard through his nose.

“Caine,” she said. “ _Come._ ”

His whole body jerked. His mouth opened, but no sound came out—just a thin, hissing breath that turned into a sigh of relief as she felt his cock pulse under her hand, the thin barrier distending at the tip to contain the sudden rush of pearly seed.

She nursed him gently through the aftershocks, breathing into his ear.

“There you go—good boy, Caine. You’re such a good boy.”

Caine just moaned, going boneless against her. It was a good thing they were sitting down, since Jupiter wasn’t sure she could support his full weight. As it was she had to brace her legs in order not to fall over.

She continued to stroke him, but although his dick softened the erection didn’t dissipate entirely. In fact, there was now a noticeable bulge around the base—the veins she had admired before having swelled enormously to create a lumpish knot half the size of her fist.

“Huh,” she said.

Caine laughed, a little bitterly.

“That’s why,” he said, reaching over and delicately closing his hand over hers, stilling it. “Didn’t want to hurt you.”

An hour ago Jupiter would have snorted. Now, sated and still marginally in her own afterglow, she just smiled fondly and pressed a kiss into Caine’s temple.

“You wouldn’t have,” she said, softly. “But thanks, for the consideration. Most guys—” she stopped herself short of going on to expound upon the shitiness of her previous lovers. That was the last thing Caine needed to hear, and honestly she didn’t feel it was worth thinking about at the moment. But now Caine was looking at her curiously, so she shrugged.

“Most guys don’t do _that_ after they come,” she finished, proud of the save.

“Neither do most splices,” Caine said, his voice sour. “I told you, I’m closer to a—”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Jupiter, knocking her head against his. “And as far as I can tell there’s nothing wrong with that.”

Caine went very still against her. He seemed to be thinking hard. How he _could_ be thinking at this point was beyond Jupiter, whose brain had turned to happy mush.

“You really think so?” he asked.

Jupiter sighed and kissed him again. “Oh yeah.”

Caine’s hand moved, lifting hers off his dick to thread their fingers together while he peeled the barrier away, before settling them right over his knot. It was all the answer she needed.

“So… how long does this last?” she asked.

Caine shrugged.

“A few minutes. Longer, if I’m with someone.”

“Mm. Sounds nice.”

“It is awkward.”

“It looks _awesome._ Bet it feels awesome, too.”

“Actually, it kind of tickles.”

“I meant for _me,_ ” Jupiter said, squeezing his shoulder playfully. She couldn’t help grinning at the shocked look on his face. 

“Yeah,” she said, settling down to lean into his weight. She’d worked a up sweat—they both had—and now it was beginning to chill on her skin. Luckily, Caine was still blazing like a furnace, and she practically snuggled up into his heat. “I’m so gonna take that next time. I can, you know. Vaginas are awesome that way.”

“There’s going to be a next time?” Caine said, as if he was only just now realizing this.

Jupiter laughed, craning her neck around so she could kiss his mouth.

“Oh my god,” she said. “Caine, we are just getting _started._ ”

It took several more minutes, but eventually they did manage to crawl into the bed; Jupiter curling up in the copious blankets while Caine, languid and exhausted and more relaxed than she had ever seen him, collapsed next to her, pillowing his head on her chest. She twined her arms around his neck and held him there, feeling something bright and warm settle inside her even as darkness closed in around her. 

Together, they slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEW: [Now with more porny fanart](http://elrondxrn.tumblr.com/post/112381250914/more-fanart-for-httyawbf)!
> 
> Meta and Head-canons for HTTYAWBF:
> 
> The sargons are the species Stinger implied were wiped out by the meteor prior to the seeding of Earth. I’m re-using the term for Balem’s scaly brute force because I didn’t catch a species name for them and it seems to fit—though I think it can be assumed that these sargons have been genetically altered to serve humans. Other than the name I am 100% making up their social structure and characters—including Gurnogheth. Though if anyone wants to borrow her for their JA fic that is fine by me. She pretty much looks/sounds exactly like Skelekin and Greeghan.
> 
> Smasher is another OC. She is a splice Legionnaire and you will meet her later.
> 
> More meta and fic-writing process ramblings can be found [here](http://elrondxrn.tumblr.com/post/112065672534/httyawbf-meta).
> 
> Jupiter’s bullet is [one of these sweet things](http://www.babeland.com/ro80mm-bullet-vibe/d/2477).
> 
> My head-canon for Caine’s boots is that there must be something special about the way they’re attached to him, since _he never takes them off_ in the film. Even when captured by Titus they don’t think to strip them off him—even though they can be used as weapons.
> 
> First Aid barriers-as-condoms were inspired by actual spray-on condoms I read in a fic which I can't for the life of me find anymore. So if you used that in your fic I probably got it from you. Bless.
> 
> EDIT: Thanks, to [theladylillibet](http://archiveofourown.org/users/theladylillibet/pseuds/theladylillibet), who pointed out that it was (the super hot and inspiring) [Sirius Ascending](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3318926) by [Aeolian](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeolian/pseuds/Aeolian).
> 
> Thank you all to everyone who’s left kudos and comments (both here and on tumblr)—and to those of you who’ve caught typos. This fic is self-proofed so I’m sure there are an inordinate number. And for those of you who are silently reading and enjoying: I’ve been in your shoes, and I want you to know I love you, too.
> 
> The next chapter is called “Positive Reinforcement,” and as Jupiter said: _we are just getting started_.


	4. Positive Reinforcement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being a method of training whereby desirable actions are rewarded generously. Especially well suited for animals who are of nervous temperament or who have been mistreated in the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter begins with an Interlude that takes place directly after the events of Chapter 3. By rights it’s not really part of either, but since I can’t post it on its own without AO3 mucking with the chapter numbers, I’m just sticking it in here in front of Chapter 4. I wanted to pay tribute to Caine and Stinger's past relationship; even if this is not a poly/triad fic, I support the Jupiter/Caine/Stinger OT3 in spirit. Also, for all the people who wanted Chariot Lady to have a happy ending: enjoy!
> 
> There has now been art added to Chapter 3, [and you can find more here](http://elrondxrn.tumblr.com/post/112413429529/more-fanart-for-httyawbf).
> 
>  
> 
> New tags: hair pulling, light choking, porn with plot

**Interlude I**

 

Jupiter awoke to golden warmth and unfamiliar pressure on her chest. The gold was thanks to the morning sun which was making a determined effort to shine in through the curtains, while most of the warmth came from the large, hot body that lay curled around her. This was also the source of the pressure, she discovered when she moved her hands to explore and found Caine’s head. 

He was entirely submerged under the blankets, face turned aside and his beard tickling her breasts.

Her naked breasts.

Oh yes they were naked in bed together. That thought brought Jupiter fully into consciousness, with a luxuriant stretch that made her toes tingle.

They were naked in bed together and Caine was still fast asleep. She could tell, because the sounds that had originally woken her were the faint little whuffles and snorts which he was currently making into the side of her right boob. It reminded Jupiter of the way dogs sometimes woofed in their sleep, and idly she wondered what he was dreaming about.

There was a soft, yet purposeful, _creak_ from the doorway, and Jupiter rolled her head to find Stinger standing in it.

She felt the color rising in her cheeks—until she remembered they were thoroughly buried under the blankets and the only thing he could see was the upper half of her face. Then she noticed the man’s expression: he was looking vaguely past her to where the large lump indicated the presence of Caine, his manner thoughtful and—if Jupiter could believe it—a little wistful. Then he caught her eye, and smiled sheepishly.

“I haven’t actually seen him sleep in ages,” he breathed, voice so quiet Jupiter had to strain to hear the words.

She mouthed, _he’s dreaming,_ and Stinger shook his head, grinning. Then his smile faded and he regarded her seriously. It was the first time he’d ever looked her in the eye, Jupiter realized with a jolt. His caught the early morning sun, flashing yellow.

“You’ll look after him,” he said. 

In that moment he was not a splice talking to an Entitled. He was an officer handing over a soldier to a fellow commander. It suddenly made everything easy and comfortable.

“I will,” Jupiter breathed.

On her chest, Caine was lying quiet and still.

Stinger put his hands in his pockets and nodded.

“I know you will,” he said, and looked archly at the sheet-covered lump. “So how much longer are you gonna pretend-sleep, you sly dog?”

Caine’s body shuddered, and his head rose off Jupiter’s chest, breaching the layer of blankets like a fuzzy, blond whale. His eyeliner was smudged and his hair was plastered against his head on one side—and teased into crazy spikes on the other. He glowered at Stinger.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he growled.

“I’ll thank you to remember this is _my_ house,” Stinger said, but without rancor. Instead, he looked pointedly at the scattering of clothes, boots and shoes that still decorated the floor. There was also a single, brown feather. “Though I suppose I should thank you for not actually doing it _in my bed._ ”

“Oh my _god,_ ” said Jupiter, throwing an arm over her face.

“Stinger, what do you want?” Caine said, utterly unrepentant.

Stinger straightened up, looking deferentially at the wall, and said in a more normal, brisk way:

“Mr Night wishes to speak with her majesty. He says he needs to consult with her about the… um… chariot.”

“Oh,” groaned Jupiter. “ _Great._ ”

When she did wander out to the barn, flanked by Caine and a curious Kiza, it was hardly what she had been expecting.

There were raised voices from inside, and as they approached there was a crash and the door shook.

Caine frowned, and put himself firmly in front as he slid it open.

“—over my deactivated grav-jets!” shouted a coarse, female voice.

“That is precisely why I have asked to speak with her majesty,” Chicanery Night was saying, when Jupiter pushed past Caine and beheld for the second time Balem’s distressing chariot.

It looked much like it had before: a long, almost canoe-like shape, with a raised seat at the back, and on the tipped-up prow, in place of a figurehead, was a living woman—her legs and torso disappearing into the keel and life support lines jacked into her back and sides.

But where before she had stared out at the world with half-dead eyes, her arms bound at her sides, now she had both hands free and was glaring down at the unfortunate Mr Night, who had taken refuge behind a moldy bale of straw.

“Okay,” said Jupiter. “What the hell is gong on?”

Both parties turned to her—both angry, frightened, and a little bleary-eyed.

“Madam Chariot has been presenting difficulties, majest—Ma’am,” said Chicanery Night, chancing a bow from behind his bale of straw. “As you can see I’ve restored her voice and such physical control as she is still capable of. However, anything further would—”

He was cut off by an empty honey jar, hurled with surprising accuracy at his head.

“My name is _Morlanda!_ ” shouted the chariot woman, tossing another jar from hand to hand.

“Technically your identity was stripped,” Chicanery Night muttered, not coming out from behind the bale. “You have no more right to that name than—”

“Okay, Morlanda,” said Jupiter, turning to face the enraged chariot. “What seems to be the problem?”

She found herself confronted by an almost gorgonesque face: wide, heavyset eyes and thickly braided hair—all tinged like tarnished brass.

Morlanda pursed her lips unhappily.

“You can’t get me out of the chariot,” she said bitterly. “You don’t understand. I’m _spliced_ in. Half my internal organs have been replaced and I’m hardwired to the generator.”

Jupiter was suddenly very glad she had not bothered with breakfast.

“Do you have access to its controls?” Kiza asked, idly sucking on a piece of honeycomb. “Hi, yes. I’m Kiza,” she said, waving when Morlanda just stared at her blankly. “You said you’re hardwired in. Does that mean you could control the chariot?”

Morlanda’s shoulders drooped as far as her framework would allow. “No,” she said. “Control goes to a panel on the seat.”

Kiza popped the honeycomb out of her mouth. “Mind if I take a look?”

Morlanda just shrugged.

“Be careful,” hissed Chicanery Night. “She’s got the Abrasax-issue punch.”

But Morlanda just crossed her arms and glared at the rafters while Kiza slid around and climbed up onto the seat to get a look at the controls. After a moment, Jupiter went and joined her.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Dad’s tech is always breaking,” she said. She’d pulled open a panel which covered a conduit of cables running the length of the boat-like chariot. “I’ve seen stuff like this before. Usually, you can re-route command—”

“You just need to deactivate the firewall,” Chicanery Night called from behind the bale of straw.

“Really?” said Kiza. “That makes it easy, then.”

“To do _what_?” Jupiter asked.

“Well, if Morlanda is hardwired into the chariot, it means her _brain_ is hooked up as well, right? So if I just pull out the firewall—” she reached in a slim, pale hand, and yanked at a piece of shiny red metal.

From the prow, Morlanda gave a surprised “ _Oh!_ ”

Then the chariot abruptly came to life, shooting three feet into the air and skittering sideways. Jupiter had to duck and roll and Kiza jumped clear at the last second.

“Oh…” said Morlanda, and slowly the chariot began to rotate, spinning around until she could look down at them. An obscene smile was spreading across her metallic face.

“You might want to take yourself out into the fields,” Kiza suggested, rubbing her knee. “And make sure you keep an eye on your battery life.”

Morlanda looked at Jupiter, sprawled on the ground. She glanced at Caine, standing by the door, and then gazed out—where the morning sun lit the cornfield with a bright, yellow halo. As if in invitation, a light breeze wafted in, bringing with it the smell of wet grass and flowers.

“Yeah,” said Jupiter, a little stunned. “Go knock yourself out.”

Half an our later they were gathered on Stinger’s back porch, watching Morlanda tear up and down the fields, pursued at a cautious distance by a gaggle of sargons. Every now and again the woman gave a delighted shriek.

“No, no, no,” said Stinger, as the chariot took aim at a new swath of land. “ _Not_ the rose garden— _no!_ ” 

A moment later he was airborne, accompanied by a swarm of bees, and together they buzzed off to prevent the chariot—and the sargons—from wrecking the flowers.

At her elbow, Chicanery Night gave a diffident cough.

“I hope your—Ma’am—I hope you do not find my failure too egregious,” he said.

Jupiter blinked in surprise and looked down at him.

“Uh… no?” she said. “I mean, she looks pretty happy. That’s what counts, right?”

“Of course, Ma’am,” said Chicanery Night, still doubtful. 

“Nah, it’s okay,” Jupiter said, giving him a gentle pat on the elbow. “Good job.”

Chicanery Night actually took a step back from her in shock.

“Really?”

“Sure,” said Jupiter. “But I still don’t trust you.”

Chicanery Night squared his shoulders and raised his chin. “Of course not, Ma’am,” he said, and smiled. “But it is nice to be appreciated.”

Out beyond the gardens, Morlanda had discovered that her gravity jets could lift her clear of the corn and was streaking across the horizon, shining gold against the clear, morning sky, her laughter ringing out over the fields.

 

**4\. Positive Reinforcement**

_Being a method of training whereby desirable actions are rewarded generously. Especially well suited for animals who are of nervous temperament or who have been mistreated in the past._

 

The first business contract thinly disguised as a marriage proposal arrived while they were in the process of furnishing Caine’s apartment. This had been a stop-gap solution while Jupiter figured out how she was going to give the almost two million dollars to her mother that two-hundred thousand Cs had converted into without explaining the whole “queen-of-the-Earth” thing. The currently plan was: get Caine an apartment. Introduce him to the family. Be sufficiently vague about what he did that they would assume he either worked for the government or the Mob or possibly both. Have Caine (really Stinger, but through Caine) get Aleska and Nino’s citizenship situation sorted out. Move them into the apartment downstairs (which Jupiter had also bought and which was currently home to Gurnogheth and a small detail of sargons), and then…

She was still puzzling out what she would do then. In the mean time, she could now say she was going to spend the night at her boyfriend’s house and not have that mean sleeping on a roof somewhere.

Which had been nice… during the summer. It was the end of September now, however, and Jupiter had been adamant that Caine was not going to be camping on rooftops and in abandoned buildings over the winter. Besides, there were things she wanted to do with Caine that were not the sort of things one really wanted to do outside—unless they were a lot more of an exhibitionist than either of them.

Caine’s apartment was a loft—big and airy, with huge windows that actually opened. It had bare brick walls and rafters, and the floor was harshly-scrubbed bamboo. The bed could fold up into the wall—revealing a small armory—and there was a communication hub installed behind a false panel in the closet. A trap door in the bathroom let directly into the apartment below, ostensibly to give Caine and the sargons easy access to one another, though they usually flew up and down the outside, making good use of the opening windows.

Which was the case when Gurnogheth hove into view while they were trying out different positions for the sofa, carrying a small, bright-eyed woman with long, tufted, furry ears.

“This one has a message for you,” she said ominously, dumping her burden unceremoniously at Jupiter’s feet and going to stand, loomingly, behind her left shoulder.

(Gurnogheth always stood at her left, leaving her right side—the place of honor—for Caine. Once Jupiter caught on, she actually found it sort of cute. In a large, scaly way.)

“Greetings, Jupiter Abrasax,” said the woman, primly dusting herself off and shooting a poisonous look at the sargon. She didn’t even acknowledge Caine, who had taken up his favorite position on Jupiter’s free side and was engaged in a looming contest with Gurnogheth. 

“I am Hilaria Savin, First Adjunct to His Majesty Prince Fillien Estarte of Estarte Nectars, Inc. On behalf of His Majesty I have come to offer you this offer of declaration of loyalty and co-dependent prosperity, with the hope that you will condescend to join His Majesty for dinner aboard his Palace Ship, _Nerefstaria._ ”

So speaking she presented Jupiter with a small, gilded tablet with something like an orchid embellished on it.

“Okay yeah,” said Jupiter. She would have felt taken aback, except she was very conscious of the two large people standing directly behind her—people who would, she was certain, not only catch her if she fell, but also eject the pernicious little woman from her apartment at high speeds. It made her feel a little more stable.

“You’re gonna have to repeat that,” she said. “Slowly. I might have read the _Code and Conduct_ but I’m still new at this.”

Behind her, Caine sighed thunderously. 

“It’s a marriage proposal,” he said.

“And a rather forward one,” remarked Gurnogheth.

“Prince Fillien only desires to make the benefits of his liaison clear to the Abrasax monarch,” said Hilaria Savin, with a primness that made Jupiter’s teeth hurt. “In light of her recent ascension and the attendant… _complications…_ he feels his offer is a generous one Her Majesty would do well to consider.”

“So basically he thinks I need someone to hold my hand in the planet-ruling business?” Jupiter said, non-plussed.

Hilaria Savin’s ears twitched angrily, but her perfect, frozen smile remained in place. She had very large, dark eyes, Jupiter noticed, and wondered if she was part mouse.

“Prince Fillien has only your best interests at heart,” she said. “That such an arrangement might also benefit him is but a happy convenience.”

Jupiter did not need to hear Caine’s bitten off snort to tell her this was a load of rubbish. She’d seen the list of Saraphi’s worlds, and they were staggering, but Balem’s personal assets were not too shabby either. Distantly, Jupiter wondered if she might be not only the owner and protector of Earth, but also the richest person in the galaxy. It was a dizzying thought, but did not help her formulate a coherent reply.

Luckily, Hilaria Savin had not got her job by being stupid. After setting the tablet on their bare kitchen counter she performed a hasty bow and began backing toward the open window.

“Your Majesty doubtless has many things on her mind,” she was saying, shooting nervous glances over Jupiter’s left shoulder. “Please take time to consider the invitation, and return your answer tomorrow?”

With that she turned and took a flying leap out the window, only to be caught in the updraft of an extractor beam, which lifted her sedately into the sky.

 

*

 

“It’s not going to stop, is it?” Jupiter asked Caine later.

Later, after Gurnogheth had gone back to her post and Jupiter had given up on finding a place for the sofa and made ramen (because Caine had never had ramen and that would not do), and they were sprawled on the sofa together: Caine with his booted feet hanging off one armrest, and Jupiter lying flat out on top of him. His uniform was rough where it touched her bare skin, and his belt dug into her hip in an odd way, but he had one hand resting possessively on her back and the other (just as possessively) on her rear, so everything was okay, really.

Okay, except that she still had the tablet sitting like a time bomb on the kitchen counter, and the hovering presence of a space prince’s yacht somewhere beyond the Oort cloud. Such a long way away, really. Only not at all when your ship could teleport. She sighed.

“You can always tell him no,” Caine said, his voice rumbling pleasantly beneath her.

“I know,” said Jupiter. “I will. It’s just… first there was Titus, and now this. Even if I do have the power or whatever, that just makes people want to take it away.”

Caine was silent, but he’d begun to stroke soothingly up and down her back, his hands warm and rough, but gentle. She felt his chest rise and fall under her.

Caine was breathing.

Everything got a little more okay.

“I could tell him no,” she said, beginning to smile. “And have Gurnogheth deliver the message in person.”

“You do realize Gurnogheth is the least of your military assets?” Caine said, sounding a touch bitter.

Jupiter lifted her head from where it had been pillowed on his chest and squinted at him through the dim light (the sun had set, and they only had one working lamp).

“Or you could tell him, if you want,” she said, pressing a finger gently to his nose.

Caine rolled his eyes sideways and gave a little huff.

“I meant, between the sargons and the Legion’s Honor Guard and the good graces of the Aegis, you could fly up there, take him prisoner, and demand he surrender his estates to you.”

“Huh,” said Jupiter. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Your Majesty does not think like they do,” Caine pointed out, but he made it sound like that was a good thing.

“You’re right,” said Jupiter, crossing her arms so she could lean up and look at Caine properly. His eyes were half closed, but a little blue still glimmered through the dark cracks, and he had an odd, secret sort of smile creeping across his face. It made Jupiter smile, big and large. “I’m not like them,” she said.

Caine shook his head.

“No,” he said, and now the smile was anything but secret. A glimpse of a fang in the dark, quickly covered by warm, pink lips. “No you are not.”

The fact that he somehow made it sound as though this meant Jupiter was something more, something far greater and more beautiful, fabulous, and generally amazing, warmed her like the burn of fine whisky. She felt it ignite the familiar fire inside her, and suddenly she was reaching forward—dragging herself over Caine’s torso, and kissing him firmly on those soft, pink lips.

Lips which were still lax and unresponsive for the barest moment, and then they parted, closing on her tongue and then opening again, pressing into her mouth, her cheek, moving so he could clamp down on her jaw and suck, laving the area with his tongue. Hot, heady breath still smelling faintly of pork ramen gusted in her face, and she laughed and swallowed it down as she kissed him again.

Her back was cold; his hands had traveled upwards and were now drifting over her neck, fingers sliding through her hair so that he clasped her head, lifting and turning just so and—

_Oh that was perfect._

“So what will you do?” Caine asked, when their mouths parted.

Jupiter had to collect the shards of her intellect from where they had been scattered before she remembered what he was talking about.

“I’ll figure it out tomorrow,” she said. “I’m tired of thinking about it.”

“Shall I distract you?” Caine asked, his voice innocent. As though such distractions might involve cartoons or perhaps a card game. Yet Jupiter could tell just from the tenseness of his body—not to mention the growing bulge in his trousers—that he had something very different in mind.

Which was absolutely fine by her.

Caine rarely initiated sex. When he did it was always in a sort of round-about way: being extra subservient and generally doing things that got Jupiter hot and bothered. He had explained that it took the smell of her arousal to get him properly turned on, but since Jupiter found herself aroused by Caine several times a day—whether he was inviting it or not—this had not exactly put a dent in their sex life.

But to have him already hardening beneath her, clearly ready and willing to take the lead, was a rare treat.

It was a treat, because it meant he was confident enough that Jupiter felt she could dare to push the envelope of what Caine was comfortable with.

Which was already quite a lot, all things considered. The thing that pulled at Jupiter’s heart strings, however, was how much Caine clearly wanted some things—just wasn’t comfortable asking for or doing them. It had taken her a week of careful handling before he’d let her suck his dick, and the result was stoic-if-redfaced-Caine to whimpering-crying-glassy-eyed-Caine in half a minute. Now it was something she could do as much as she liked, and Caine only looked moderately taken aback every time she sat him down (or laid him out or just backed him up against a wall), pulled his pants off and got to work.

He thanked her afterwards, every time. And every time it gave her shivers.

Now, though. Now Jupiter had something else in mind; a desire she’d been nursing ever since their first time on the floor of Stinger’s bedroom, and she grinned as she reached up and nibbled his ear.

“That sounds nice,” she said, and she felt his stubbly cheek press into hers as he mirrored her action; delicately taking the lobe of her ear between his teeth. “I think I already have something in mind.”

“Your Majesty need only say,” he whispered, a little hoarse.

Pulling back Jupiter met his gaze evenly, noticing that his eyes had already gone a little unfocused and hazy. He was slipping into what she thought of as his sub-state: where he became even more pliant and agreeable and—in a certain way—more honest. He dropped all of his stoic armor when he got like this, showing his pain, his pleasure, and his desire clearly. But Jupiter knew well how easy it was to agree to something when you were drunk on arousal that you later regretted, and she needed him to be thinking clearly before they continued.

“Caine, focus,” she said, lightly tapping his cheek.

He blinked, understanding that tone of voice. His hands slid down to rest on her hips, and he regarded her seriously.

“Yes, Majesty?”

“I told you before, what I want to do,” she said, running a hand down between them to cup the heat in his pants. Caine groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, breathing deeply through his nose, but mastered himself again and looked up at her.

“Please remind me,” he wheezed.

“I want you to come,” Jupiter said, dropping a kiss on the corner of his mouth, “in me.” 

A shudder and a groan, and his hands tightened on her waist.

“And I want you to _stay_ in me,” Jupiter went on, moving down to his neck. “While I come on you. Around you.”

Caine’s eyes actually rolled back and he gave a little whine, but then he was shaking his head vehemently.

“No, no. I can’t.”

“Why not?” Jupiter asked, stroking his face. “Caine, I’m serious,” she added, when all this got was a moan. “If that’s something you really don’t want to do, then we won’t. I’ll stop asking—no more questions. Just… if you do want to, and there’s something stopping you, I want you to tell me if there’s anything _I_ can do to make it all right.”

Caine looked aside, frowning, but he was heating up under Jupiter’s hands and was, as far as she could tell through two layers of pants and his fucking under-armor, almost completely erect.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said in a small, cracked voice.

“That’s it?” Jupiter said, stomping down on her exasperation.

Caine looked back at her, faintly stricken.

“That’s _everything,_ isn’t it?”

Jupiter couldn’t help smiling as she shook her head and leaned down her kiss him again.

“That’s a good priority,” she said. “Mine too, actually. Only the other way around. But I trust you, Caine. I trust you to tell me if it’s too much or something hurts or feels wrong. Will you trust me to do the same? Unless you just don’t want to… to do this at all.”

The response came almost immediately this time.

“No, no I _want—_ I do want…” Caine choked a little, getting the words out. Jupiter rubbed him gently through his pants and bit at his neck.

“Yes?”

“I want you,” he said, breathing heavily. “I want you… any way you’ll have me. Just”—he swallowed—“just take me.”

_Have me. Keep me. Hold me._ Those words went unsaid. He spoke them with his eyes, with the motion of his body, writhing, under her. Words he couldn’t say just yet. But he would. Jupiter knew, given enough time, she’d coax them out of him. He was hers, but by choice, not force. She’d condition him with sweetness and warmth, and when she called he would come dancing, joyous.

“I got you,” she said, reaching up to kiss his mouth, opening it with the touch of her tongue and plowing inside. 

The fact that there were still things she wanted from him that _she_ could not yet articulate hung heavy in the back of her mind, but she pushed those thoughts firmly away. One day, when he was strong enough—when _she_ was strong enough—they’d get there. But for now they were still laying the foundation for the bridge they would eventually cross together.

Caine tasted sweeter than usual—another side effect of their dinner—but the longer she kissed him, working her way into his hot, eager mouth and stroking against him with her tongue, the more his own natural, earthy flavor reestablished itself, complete with the faint fizz that made her think of star dust.

Her world tipped as Caine rose under her, propelled by his wings which had half-unfolded in anticipation. She settled into his lap and he laid his head on her shoulder while she went at the fastenings of his vest.

It was a little complicated, getting it off around the wings, but Jupiter had had practice, and Caine was patient: holding himself completely still, moving only at her command, until she’d lifted the garment free.

She wasn’t sure what it said about her that such displays of obedience filled her with an arousal so hot and intense she felt it like a firestorm in her veins. That the sight of his strong, naked back trembling under her hands was enough to make her wet. Then he lifted his head to gaze at her, his eyes shining, still disbelieving, and she pushed those uncomfortable thoughts aside and kissed the expression clean off his face.

“You do me, next,” she said, tapping at his hands, which were still cupping her hips.

“As you wish,” he murmured, lazy and slow, half-closing his eyes.

For all she liked being in control, Jupiter liked it even more how _carefully_ Caine undressed her. As if he was peeling back the petals of a flower, or gently unwrapping a priceless artifact. He moved slowly, rolling her shirt up her sides, sliding a hand against her skin to guide it off one arm and then the other, before delicately lifting it over her head. He leaned in and scented her, dragging his face across her chest, before running his hands under the straps of her bra and carefully working it open. He pulled the cups off her, slowly, and Jupiter reached up and threaded her fingers in his hair, holding his face so that she could feel the warm, wet rush of his breath over her breasts.

“Go on,” she whispered, teasing a finger over the shell of one perfect, pointed ear.

Caine growled against her skin, and she felt his mouth open and shivered at the soft touch of his tongue as he licked up the side of her breast, teasing at her nipple before pressing fully onto her, the hard edges of he teeth present, but not painful.

Jupiter felt her core clench down as he moved his head to repeat the process on her other side, her hands fisting, mindlessly tight for a moment, in his short hair.

He let out a low, visceral growl that she felt all though his body and between her legs.

“Sorry,” she hissed, quickly releasing him and stroking his scalp.

“No,” he said, looking up at her suddenly. “No, I… I actually…” He swallowed. “I think I like that.”

Well that wasn’t helping her internal conflict one iota.

“You mean this?” Jupiter asked, burying her fingers in his short hair and pulling gently.

Caine closed his eyes and flexed his shoulders, pressing himself close along her belly. Then he opened them and gave her a challenging look.

“Harder,” he said.

Jupiter raised an eyebrow, and let a little weight off her internal restraints. She pulled, sharp and sudden, at Caine’s hair, feeling a jolt of excitement pulse through her as she did so.

Another growl, this time accompanied with a flash of clenched teeth. His arms, like warm, steel bands around her, shuddered.

“Like this?” she asked.

“ _Yes,_ ” he breathed.

Interesting.

She leaned in close, licking the tip of his ear before whispering into it.

“Anything… else you’d like?”

Caine swallowed.

“One time,” he said, quietly, the words going jerky. “You… you pulled my ear.”

“You want me to do it again?” she pressed on, because it would be far too easy to take this ball and run with it. And once she had it, Jupiter was certain she wouldn’t want to give it back.

Caine looked slightly embarrassed.

“Yeah.”

With a feeling like she was going into free fall, even though she was held and supported so thoroughly, Jupiter reached up and, after softly caressing the shell of Caine’s right ear, pressed the pointed tip between her thumb and forefinger and pinched hard.

Caine gasped, eyes going glassy and blank.

She twisted her hand, pulling his head to one side.

This time his growl had a thread of whine in it.

“Does any part of you want to bite me, Caine?” Jupiter asked, leaning forward and kissing the side of his neck.”

A gasp.

“No.”

She pulled harder, and dared rake the nails of her free hand over his chest.

A grunt.

“Okay… maybe a little.”

“Good boy.”

That got a surprised yelp.

“But I’m not—” he began.

Jupiter found her hand had come to rest on his left pec, and she quickly found his nipple and pinched it between her nails.

“You _are,_ ” she said, firmly. “Caine, you’re extraordinary. You have no idea how special you are, but I need you to take it from me.” Rising, she took his head firmly in both hands, clutching at the short, yellow hair and pulling him flush against her breasts. He whined, but the sound was muffled against her skin, and she shushed him. “Whatever anyone says, Caine. Remember, you’re perfect to me.”

She felt the sob ricochet through him more than she heard it. He gave a sharp gasp against her skin, and then he was struggling to stand, gathering her up in his arms so he could get his legs out from under her.

He was whispering into her chest, “Please, please, please,” and Jupiter stroked his hair as he gently lowered her back down to the sofa. 

“Please,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Please, I want—” his mouth closed over her left breast and she gasped as he sucked hard, rolling her nipple between his teeth. “I need to taste you,” he gasped when he pulled away.

The really awesome thing about sweatpants was how quickly you could get out of them when your angel-wolf-boyfriend wanted to go down on you. Jupiter whipped them off so fast she nearly hit Caine in the face in doing so, but he hardly seemed to notice. He didn’t wait for her to get her underwear off, but nestled himself between her legs and buried his face in them, breathing heavily and licking her through the thin cotton.

“Oh, wow,” said Jupiter, dazed but pleased.

Caine growled in response, drawing away slightly so he could work her panties off her hips, sliding them smoothly over her ass and dragging them away down her legs. She kicked them off at the last, then hooked her knees over his shoulders and dragged him in.

Not that he needed much dragging. He only paused at the last inch, turning to gaze up at her, needing one last word of encouragement.

“It’s okay,” she said, wet and breathless and trying not to thrust up into him. Bending forward she stroked his face, fingers lingering on his mouth. “Good boy, go on.”

With a relieved sigh he sank into her, nosing her open and lips parting to allow his tongue to press into the head of her clit. 

It felt like sinking into hot, wet heaven. Even though the only point of intimate contact was his mouth between her legs, she felt the heat of it rush through her whole body, and she let out an involuntary groan.

As if in answer Caine moaned, and glancing down Jupiter was struck by a vision of him, his brows knitted and his jaw opened wide, a look of almost painful ecstasy on his face. It was the same expression he got when he kissed her, she realized, and the sight of it between her legs sent a wave of warmth spilling across her belly. It was almost enough to make her come.

Almost.

Jupiter sighed as she remembered her collection of vibrators were in a bag under the bed—a full twelve feet away—but that didn’t mean she couldn’t take full advantage of where Caine was at the moment.

Which was currently sucking at her clit, teasing her with his tongue until he moved down, pressing it inside her and curling it up against her sweet spot. Like that, even with his nose practically buried in her labia, he inhaled deeply, scenting her. Getting her scent on _him._

“You like that, Caine?” she asked, trying to keep the breathy moan out of her own voice.

Caine’s response was to growl possessively inside her, not even bothering to lift his mouth off.

“Caine,” she said, pushing her hands into his hair and pulling.

Reluctantly his head rose and he gazed at her, his mouth still open and his tongue just poking out between his shiny, flushed lips.

“ _Yes,_ ” he breathed.

“Good boy,” Jupiter whispered, and pushed him back down again. This time she kept her hands on the back of his head, using him as a brace so she could thrust up against his face, causing his own hands to come up and grip her hips for balance.

He was going at it with a will now, little snarls getting out between his lips and tongue as he plastered his mouth against her and licked inside with sudden, strong strokes. It sent a jolt through her body that made her spine arch, her grip tightening in his hair.

“Use you fingers,” she said when she could speak again. “Want them inside me—let me feel you.”

“Yes, Majesty,” Caine said, the words half swallowed as he spoke them against her flesh.

He pulled away momentarily to lick a sloppy stripe of saliva down his index finger, and then his head lowered again, this time at a slight angle so he could bring his hand up and slide the wet finger inside her.

Jupiter heard herself moan, caught between the delicious pressure and the twisting want for more, _more…_

“Your thumb, too,” she said, causing Caine to roll his eyes up at her in an unspoken question.

“Go on,” she said, tensing her thighs lightly around his neck. “Just keep your mouth on my clit— _there_ you go, _good_ boy…”

She felt the presence of his thumb, pressing inexorably against the front of her pelvis, in a way that made her nerves light up and both soothed and stoked the ache inside her. At the same time, the action stretched her sweetly and she spread her legs a little more to make room for the intrusion. He crooked his index finger, digging the knuckle downwards, towards her spine, and Jupiter thought there must be something to all those charts which showed that the clitoris was actually a huge tangle of nerves wound around the vagina because that angle should not have sent tremors through her core—except it _did._ And now Caine was actually whining against her clit, laving her with strong, sure strokes of his tongue while his lips held her down with the barest hint of teeth. Pressing his thumb and finger together, they sank in even deeper.

The tremors weren’t stopping, Jupiter realized, and suddenly found herself tumbling over the falls with a broken, surprised shout as Caine curled his fingers inside her and let out a low, needy growl.

“Oh,” said Jupiter, so taken off guard that she was rendered momentarily inarticulate. “Oh—oh— _oh_ —oh _fuck._ Don’t stop, Caine, don’t stop. You’re fucking perfect—don’t ever stop—holy— _god…_ ”

She broke off to inhale as the shudders of her climax subsided, leaving her legs to twitch weakly around Caine’s neck.

Caine planted one last, soft kiss on the head of her clit, before turning to kiss the inside of her thigh, her abdomen. He laid his head against her belly, his beard tickling the sensitive skin there. With care he removed his fingers and brought them to his lips, inhaling deeply before taking them into his mouth and sucking them clean.

“Get those back inside me,” Jupiter said, shivering at the loss.

Caine looked at her, questioning.

“You heard me,” she said, and gave his exposed ear a sharp pinch.

Disbelieving but obedient, Caine gently worked his fingers back inside her, holding his hand still while Jupiter ground down on them.

“Oh yeah,” said Jupiter, beginning to feel the happy, twisting _need_ returning. “Yeah, I think I’m gonna need you on the bed now.” 

Almost regretfully she released his hand, bringing it to her own mouth this time and licking herself off him.

Caine shuddered.

“Should I…” he began, paused to collect his thoughts, and then went on. “Pants off?”

“Mm. Definitely,” said Jupiter, kicking a leg over his head so she could slide off the couch. Wobbling a bit, she patted Caine’s shoulder—for he was still kneeling on the floor. “Come on,” she said, and started for the bed.

Caine hesitated. He seemed to be thinking of something. Jupiter was halfway to the bed before she turned around to check on him, and was hit by the full force of the sight of Caine Wise, red-lipped with his wings half unfurled, _crawling on his hands and knees_ toward her, his spine arched, hips swaying suggestively.

“Oh, _fuck_ me,” said Jupiter.

Caine ducked his head, but she could still see the grin spreading over his features.

“Anything Your Majesty desires,” he said, his voice thick with smug satisfaction.

“I do desire,” said Jupiter, just barely able to keep herself together as he drew even with her knees. “You. Bed. _Now._ ”

When instead he merely pressed up against her legs, his head at just the right height to nose into her crotch, Jupiter gave an aggravated grunt and grabbed a fistful of skin around his neck—as if he really was a dog—and ran him the rest of the way to the bed, pushing at him even as he hurled himself onto it willingly, bouncing once as he got himself turned over onto his back and began undoing the fly of his pants. He looked flushed and happy and inordinately proud of himself.

“You _liked_ that,” she said, almost accusingly.

“So did you,” Caine pointed out, a challenging glint in his eye as he leaned forward to start unfastening his boots.

“Actually I changed my mind,” said Jupiter, hooking the discreet black canvas bag with her toe and pulling it out from under the bed. “Leave those on, just pull your pants down.”

Caine gave her a surprised look, but did as instructed while Jupiter pulled out her trusty magic wand (because she was nowhere in the neighborhood of messing around) and a purpose-bought emergency barrier (because they hadn’t got their second round of testing done yet), and then climbed onto the bed, kneeling by his shoulder so she could plug the wand in before scooting down to help with his under armor. She’d learned the secret of its hidden snaps somewhere around the third time they’d undressed together, and now she practically tore them off his hips, pushing them down a little roughly so she could get at his cock.

Which was just as hard and red and weeping as she expected. If he’d been an ordinary human, Jupiter would have assumed he’d already come once, just from the mess—there was sticky precome smeared over half his belly—but the state of his dick said otherwise: it was long and hard, the sinuous veins which would swell to form the knot at its base still tight and small, half-covered by his foreskin.

“Oh, you _have_ been patient,” Jupiter said with a grin as she cracked the barrier open and coaxed it over his dick.

Caine said nothing, but shuddered at the sensation as she rubbed the thin material, making sure it covered him entirely while at the same time warming it with her hands. There was a strange vibration under her fingers as she did so, and it took a moment before she realized it was because his hips were shaking.

“But it looks like you’re ready now,” she said, leaning up to kiss his slack mouth. “What do you think? You ready to be inside me? Wanna feel me all around you, hot and strong, holding you down?”

Caine gave a small, involuntary cry against Jupiter’s cheek, and something in the darker half of her soul did a little victory dance.

“Ready to come in me?” she asked, and this time he let out a full, choking sob. He took a couple gulping breaths and said, in jerky gasps:

“Whatever—pleases—Your Majesty…”

“Mm?” said Jupiter, crawling over his lap and rubbing herself along his length, reaching down between her legs to spread some of her own juices over his cock.

Caine’s whole body did a sort of pulsing jerk, and the words tore out of him.

“Yes, _yes._ Please, please, _please_ —Majesty—”

“Shh,” said Jupiter, stroking his face with one hand even as she took a firm grip on his cock and slowly lowered herself onto it. “Good boy, that’s a good boy… oh fucking hell Caine you feel _so_ good…”

It was like putting a piece of herself back into place—filling a void she hadn’t even known was there. The feeling of his cock, with its pleasantly bulbous head, pushing deep inside her left trails of sparks in its wake, and when he was finally slotted in place, his groin warm under her legs, Jupiter felt the heat roar through her like an injection of pure energy. She tilted her hips, just a little, and felt the head of him press up, impossibly deep inside her, and she could have sung.

Caine, meanwhile, was a writhing, twitching mess under her; his head thrown to one side and his eyes screwed shut, his hands were fisting in the sheets and he’d pulled his knees up so he could brace his booted feet against the mattress—as if he wanted to thrust up into her but was, through some superhuman force, not doing so.

“Shh, Caine, I got you,” she said, leaning forward to brush his face with her hands, running them down his arms and clasping his hands. As she brought them up to her sides he pried his eyes open and stared at her—hazy and wondering.

“You have me,” he whispered, his fingers curing around her.

“Not letting go, either,” Jupiter side with a grin, and clenched around him—as hard as she could. She felt his hands clutch, momentarily claw-like, and then he was pulling himself up so he could bury his face in her chest. She laughed, grabbed his shoulders for balance, and began to rock back and forth, pushing down onto him with little thrusts of her hips.

“Feel good?” she asked, after a particularly hard grind wrenched a broken sob from his throat.

“Yes,” he moaned, deep and hoarse. Then: “Please… don’t stop.”

Jupiter grinned—not that he could see it—and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“Just getting started,” she whispered, and began thrusting onto him in earnest, pushing herself up off his hips only to slam back down again. Faster, and faster, until she could feel the delicious burn of him dragging in and out, until his hips started to move under her, and then she just held on and let him work.

“How’s it feel?” she asked, between pounding thrusts.

“Good,” he moaned, face still buried between her breast. “ _Really_ good.”

“Tell me about it,” she said, gasping a little as he nearly bucked her off.

“Unngh,” was the only reply she got. Then…

“You’re so hot… and tight. It feels—feels like I’m being consumed _and I don’t care._ Jupiter… I don’t… I can’t…”

The use of her name, combined with those words, sent a chill down her spine and she stilled—even as he continued to rock under her.

“Caine,” she said, tugging a little on his hair. “ _Caine,_ do you need me to stop? Do you want me to get off?”

Caine went very still under her, but he was trembling. He took a few deep breaths, hot against her skin, and shook his head.

“No,” he said at last. “No… I’m… I’m okay.”

“Okay?” Jupiter said, daring to rock her hips a little. 

“Yes,” said Caine, sounding more sure of himself.

“Okay,” said Jupiter. Carefully she worked her hands around Caine’s neck, her fingers digging into his nape while she pressed her thumbs up against his jaw bone—where she couldn’t accidentally choke him—and pushed his face up to meet hers. “So come on, then,” she said, right as she squeezed down on him as hard as she could and pulled her hips back a fraction—before shoving herself down again. The action hit something inside her that made her whole core pulse, so she missed the exact moment when Caine’s eyes rolled back into his head and his mouth dropped open in a long, soundless wail. 

She didn’t—couldn’t—miss the way his hips snapped up into her, his hands clutching at her sides, or the way she felt him begin to pulse inside her, tremors running up and down the length of his cock as he pressed in as close as he could.

Jupiter held on, feeling vaguely triumphant, as she felt the huge body under her tense, relax, twitch, tense… and finally melt against hers—even as a new sensation blossomed between her legs: a growing pressure and sense of _fullness_ that pressed hard against all the right nerves, stretching her as it grew—but not to the point of pain. She felt herself open, take him in, hold him close, and she sighed in contentment as she carefully unfolded her legs and wrapped them around his waist, resting his head against her chest and carding her fingers through his hair.

After a little while, once his breathing had evened out and his hands had un-clenched, she felt him shift a little under her—pulling his legs in to better support her weight—and _oh_ that was a mind-blowing feeling. His cock was still hard inside her, pressing deep, while at the same time the knot at the base had her completely filled. She couldn’t let him go even if she wanted.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, almost apprehensive.

Despite the delicacy of the moment, Jupiter found herself laughing.

“Caine I am so far above and beyond okay,” she said, leaning down to kiss the side of his face. “But you can help me feel better.”

His face lifted, and his eyes were clear—if a little wet around the corners. His lips were red and there was a pink flush across his cheeks. He looked younger, somehow, but deep. Like staring up at the night sky and realizing you were looking out onto countless other _worlds_ and

_Shit I get sappy when I’m ridiculously turned on,_ Jupiter thought, bringing herself back down into the present.

The present, where Caine was saying, “Whatever you want,” and stroking his big, strong hands up and down her back.

She shivered, and reached around him for her vibrator—whose cord was _just_ long enough—flicked it on, and pressed it into his chest.

“Do I need to tell you what to do with this?”

Caine spared a hand from her back to take the handle of the wand, smiling bashfully.

“No,” he said. “But… I like hearing you tell me.”

“Oh really,” said Jupiter, running her hands over his folded wings. He shivered. “Well then. Get that between my legs, right there, near the front. You’ll need to spread me, a little. Yes, like that…”

Caine, leaning his weight back on one arm, managed to get the vibrator’s powerful head right up against her clit, and then it was all Jupiter could do not to go completely to pieces. As it was she couldn’t help moving a little, grinding down on Caine’s knot and pushing into the sensation of the vibrator. She felt like she was melting from the pleasure of it, but she stayed on that golden edge for a long time, riding the wave of bliss for what felt like miles before, with a crash, she came with a jerk and a moan that made Caine gasp.

The aftershocks continued for what felt like minutes, even after he pulled the wand off her and went back to stroking her sides—every time she thought she was done he’d _shift_ inside her and set off another cascade of tremors.

When Jupiter finally swam back into the higher realms of consciousness it was to find Caine staring up at her with a look of frank amazement on his face, his mouth slightly open.

“What?” she asked, too sated and happy to bother feeling embarrassed.

Caine shut and opened and shut his mouth a couple times before he managed to say, “I’ve never seen you come before.”

Jupiter blinked down at him. “Sorry?” she said. “I think you’ve seen me come like a couple dozen times now.”

Caine shook his head. “Not like that—like this.”

“What, with me on your knot?” Jupiter said with a grin, clenching down on him, teasingly. “Feels great, by the way.”

Caine shut his eyes, shivering. “No,” he said. “I mean, I mean with my head clear.” His eyes opened, so blue they were like little windows into a midday sky, and he gazed at her with such wonderment that Jupiter thought maybe— _maybe_ —she could manage a little self consciousness. Maybe.

Then a thought occurred.

“Wanna see me do it again?” she asked.

Caine gulped. “You can do that?” he whispered.

“Sure,” said Jupiter, though she was beginning to feel tired. But his knot was still hot and hard inside her, and what was life if you didn’t challenge yourself? “Gimme,” she said, reaching for the vibrator.

Caine handed it over with mute wonder, and watched, wide-eyed, as Jupiter took her third orgasm of the night (literally) into her own hands. It felt good in a different way, being able to angle and push and stroke exactly as she needed, and Caine was a constant, warm pressure inside her. She felt something leaking out between them, and realized it was her own juices, she’d gotten so wet.

She ended up pushing him back down onto the mattress, one hand clawing at his shoulder as she came, ragged and gasping, overblown from the sensation and completely exhausted.

With a shaking hand she switched the vibrator off and tossed it aside, collapsing onto Caine’s chest with a relieved sigh, reaching up to stroke his face. He turned, caught her hand in his mouth, and sucked her fingers, gently.

He was still hard inside her, but she could feel the pressure from his knot beginning to fade. All in all, it wasn’t a bad way to wind down from sex. She draped herself over him and pressed their foreheads together.

“Could you do something for me?” he asked, his voice quiet—hesitant.

“Mmdo what?” said Jupiter.

“Your hands,” Caine rumbled, and gently guided hers to rest on his neck. “I liked that, when you did it before.”

Jupiter blinked, trying to dredge up the memory.

“Oh,” she said, working her fingers into his nape and pushing her thumbs into his jaw. “You mean like this?”

“Yeah,” said Caine, and she could feel him relax under her. Wouldn’t be long now before she’d have to get off him—Caine’s refractory period was delayed, but he still had one, and was as sensitive as any human man.

“Only,” he said, after a few moments. “Move your thumbs down.”

Oh, that was interesting. Jupiter had thought she was entirely spent for the night, but she felt a little excitement flare as she encircled Caine’s thick neck with her hands as best she could, stroking her thumbs over his throbbing pulse. She wasn’t sure if it was that, or the way Caine seemed to _melt_ into the touch, eyes closing and his face going lax and serene.

Then one yellow eyebrow twitched.

“Harder,” he whispered.

Jupiter felt her fingers twitch eagerly, but the sober thought of what exactly she was doing held her back.

“Okay, now this is making me a little nervous.”

Caine’s eyes came open, a crease of concern appearing between his brows.

“Why?”

Jupiter loosened her hands, but kept them around his neck, stroking the strong muscles with her thumbs.

“Because… well… choking. It can go bad really fast.”

Caine sighed. “I doubt you could do any real damage to my windpipe.”

“Maybe. But _still._ That’s just how I feel.”

Caine gave a little shrug, arching his neck under her hands and inhaling deeply—as if to make a point. Jupiter was suddenly struck by an inspired idea.

“Yeah, well, if you like things around your neck so much, maybe I should just put a collar on you.”

Caine froze, his eyes widening, and Jupiter thought for an instant that she’d said the wrong thing—gone too far—and then he said:

“You’d do that? For me?” his voice eager, strained.

And Jupiter’s brain exploded, just a little.

When it was done she dropped her head into his neck, kissing the skin between her fingers and shaking with silent laughter.

“Oh my god, Caine,” she said. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you… but I’m glad—I am _so_ glad—you’re here.”

“Is that a yes?” Caine asked, suddenly nervous.

“What? Oh, oh yes,” Jupiter leaned up, kissing his bristly chin. “I will get you the prettiest collar space-bucks can buy. Something bright and pink, with rhinestones. Maybe a bell.”

Caine choked, suppressing a snort.

“I’m kidding,” said Jupiter. “I’m sure I can find something powerful and manly—probably black and made of leather. It could have studs.”

“I’d… prefer that,” said Caine. “Pink clashes with my wings.”

Jupiter couldn’t help the small shriek of wrecked laughter that tumbled out of her.

“Ow,” said Caine.

“Oh, sorry. You done?”

“I am—yes. Sorry, I am done.”

He was, too. Jupiter slid herself off him with great care, and with equal attention peeled the barrier away before he went completely soft. Walking shakily over to the kitchen, she disposed of the used barrier and pulled out a hand towel to wet under the faucet.

By the time she returned, however, Caine had already put his pants back on and was sitting up on the side of the bed, looking sharply around the apartment.

Security check, Jupiter realized, even though he was visibly tired. Caine’s military training prevented him from dropping off to sleep right after sex, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel it.

“Oh, don’t,” she said, when he made to stand up. “Gurnogheth’s right downstairs—I’m sure you can afford to sleep for a few hours.”

Caine hesitated, and Jupiter took the opportunity to crawl onto the bed, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him down after her.

“I think we lost the blankets,” she said, burying her face into the nearest pillow.

“You are lying on them, Majesty.”

“They’re stuck,” said Jupiter, rolling her head to one side so she could grin at him. “You be my blanket.”

Caine sighed. 

“You can keep your boots on, if it makes you feel better.”

That did it. She felt the bed dip as Caine settled himself next to her, unfolding one wing to wrap around her shoulders, a thick arm reaching around to cup under her knees, pulling her feet up until she was completely covered by the warm feathers. She sighed in contentment and tightened her arms around his neck, pulling him flush against her.

There it was again. The feeling of a missing piece sliding home. But Jupiter was too tired to think very hard about what that meant.

 

*

 

Some time in the night Jupiter woke to the sound of Caine dreaming. They’d shifted in their sleep; his head was now pillowed on her shoulder and he had an arm draped over her as well as one wing, and their legs had gotten tangled up.

At first Jupiter listened with sleepy amusement to the sound of his whuffles and faint yips, but as time passed these took on a distressed quality that roused her thoroughly. By the time she blinked fully awake Caine was crying—a horrible, hoarse, guttural cry. The cry of someone caught in a nightmare.

“Caine?” she whispered. 

The grating moan continued, and she could feel him shaking against her.

“Caine,” she said, turning her face into his. Fumbling for his hand she stroked his wrist, his arm—something to draw him out of the dream. “Caine, everything is all right,” she said, soothingly. “You’re okay. It’s all right.”

She touched his face and her fingers came away wet.

Caine woke up with a howl, the full force of his cry breaking free as the sleep paralysis left him and he jerked against her, violently.

“Caine, Caine, you’re okay. I’m here. You’re okay.”

She wasn’t sure he heard her words, even now. He was clutching at her almost desperately, nosing into the crook of her neck at…

Kissing her?

No, not kissing. That was his tongue all right, but it didn’t feel at all like his powerful, probing kisses. Instead he was gently licking across her neck—her _throat_ —and he was doing so with slow, gentle strokes. Not like someone kissing their lover. More like…

Like a dog licking a wound.

“Caine?” she asked, suddenly unsure whether he was really awake. “Are you all right?”

Her answer came a moment later when he blew a shaky breath over her wet skin and pulled back, the shape of his head just visible against the faint, grayish glow from the city beyond the window.

“I dreamed it was you,” he whispered, his voice thick from sleep but fully conscious.

“Dreamed I was what?” Jupiter asked, confused but sympathetic. She curled her arms around his neck, stroking his hair, his ears. They were cold. She cupped them, warming the tips. “Tell me?”

“I dreamed you were… you were the Entitled… the one I…”

The one whose throat he’d torn out.

Jupiter felt an odd shiver run down into her stomach. Like a shaft of ice. It wasn’t pleasant.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have said those things earlier… about biting and stuff. I didn’t think… I just didn’t think. I’m sorry.”

Under her hands, she felt his head shake.

“No,” he said. “It’s not your fault. It’s… it’s that I can’t remember.”

“Can’t remember… the attack?”

“I don’t even remember who it was, why I did it,” Caine said. His voice was gravelly, with an emptiness to it that made Jupiter ache. “I was on patrol. I saw someone. Something seemed wrong. Next thing I knew, I was in a cell and there’s blood on my hands, in my mouth, all down my front. They told me… they told me what I’d done, but… but I don’t remember anything. They wouldn’t even tell me the Entitled’s name, but—” he broke off, clamping his mouth shut. 

Jupiter rubbed his ears gently; kissed his temple.

“In my dream,” he went on, shakily. “In my dream they showed me the body. And it was yours.”

She didn’t know what to say, so she kissed him again.

“I’m here,” she said eventually. “I’m fine.”

“I’m not,” Caine said, his voice ragged.

“You’ll get there,” Jupiter assured him, running a finger down his jaw, over his short beard, to guide herself in and kiss his mouth.

“There’s something wrong with me, Jupiter,” he whispered. It was a mark of how upset he really was that he’d neglected to use her title, and Jupiter could only listen in sober silence. “I have a… a bug. Like AI get. It makes me want to do things… things I don’t want.”

“You mean, besides biting Entitled?” Jupiter asked.

Caine was silent for a very long time after that.

“I get urges sometimes,” he said. “Things I want—but that I _don’t_ want.”

“I know the feeling,” Jupiter sighed, knitting her fingers together behind his head. “But you _don’t_ do those things, right? Wanting things you shouldn’t want is okay, as long as you don’t hurt anyone. _Not_ doing something because you know you shouldn’t is part of being a good person.”

“You speak as if we are the same type of people,” Caine said, a flicker of bitter amusement in his voice.

Jupiter was entirely too tired to put up with the whole “closer to a dog thing” again. She gripped his head a little harder and said:

“In every way that matters, yes. Yes, I think we’re the same.”

She felt Caine’s head shake under her hands, but his hands twined around and held her, and she thought she felt him smile.

“I’m serious,” she said. “Caine, listen. I’ve got bugs, too. You know what I thought, when I first heard you’d bit an Entitled?”

“I cannot imagine,” said Caine, dully.

“I was _relieved,_ ” she said. “Because… because I didn’t _feel_ royal, back then. I still don’t—not in the way people expect me to be. And from what I’ve seen of the people you call Entitled… well. I honestly can’t blame you for wanting to bite them. And I thought—believe it or not—I thought, thank _god_ here is someone who’ll be able to _tell_ if I start to get… if I start changing…” she couldn’t finish. It was something that had been worrying at the back of her mind ever since Kalique had said the word _reincarnation._

She was reasonably certain she was Jupiter Jones, _not_ Seraphi Abrasax, but lately she found herself reexamining her own mind, just to make sure it was all _her_ in there—and no ancient, brutal, commandeering space queen.

The really frightening thing was how _easily_ she’d taken to learning the Code of Conduct and everything else that went along with being an Entitled. As if the world of high stakes space capitalism was one she somehow already knew—or was so well-suited to her that it was as if she already knew it. She also knew, just as certainly, that she did _not_ want to be that type of person. It was bad enough wanting to scratch up your lover—to wreck him with pure sensation overload—she didn’t want to be a ruthless business person as well. Not to mention stay young by eating the genes of dead people—or however Regenex worked.

She took a breath to have a go at explaining this to Caine, and found her mouth abruptly covered by his.

He tasted of salt. He _had_ been crying.

“You’ll stop me, right?” she whispered against his cheek. “If I start to get like—like Titus or Balem…”

“You won’t,” Caine said, so assured she almost laughed. But he went on: “You’re not like them.”

“And you’re not defective,” Jupiter returned, kissing his nose.

“But if I ever…” Caine didn’t finish that sentence. He didn’t have to. Jupiter hugged his head against her stroked his hair.

“I’ll get Gurnogheth to stop you,” she said.

Caine huffed.

“Or Stinger,” she amended.

A slight nod. “Good.”

“Would it help, do you think, to know who it was?” she asked after a while. “I mean, I am royalty, after all. I bet I could find the records.”

“They are probably sealed,” Caine said.

“It can’t hurt to ask,” Jupiter pointed out.

Caine was silent. She half expected him to say, “Actually, it can…” but the silence stretched on, and at the end of it he only said: “Thank you.”

Jupiter didn’t bother to ask what for. She lay there, carding her fingers through his hair, listening to him breathe, until the tenseness in his muscles receded, and he slept once more. Or pretended to sleep.

Jupiter, however, found her brain was whirring too fast for even that. After some interminable amount of time she carefully extracted herself from Caine’s embrace, pulled on her pajamas, and sent a message to Captain Tsing asking if the Aegis had any records of a legionnaire attacking an Entitled, and if so who the parties were. That done, she found herself flipping through Prince Fillien’s invitation, then looking him up on the Registrar of Titles. He owned two planets outright (Jupiter owned twenty, not counting Earth or her namesake) and had shares in three others. At first it seemed obvious why he wanted to marry/do a business merger with her, but now she got to thinking about it, weren’t the Entitled all about schemes and plans and cross plans and cross schemes? There had to be something more to his desire than just getting a share of a bunch of planets. At least, that was what Jupiter’s gut told her. It also told her she would be much better off _knowing_ what that something more was.

And if she didn’t like it, there were two regiments of sargons, a Legion Honor Guard, and _Caine._ After application of which, she was confident, Prince Fillien would never bother her ever again.

This decided, she sent a reply accepting the invitation, and crawled back into bed just as the first streaks of pale dawn began staining the eastern horizon.

Caine lay silent and still at her side, his breathing soft and even.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jupiter’s magic wand is of course the legendary “Cadillac of vibrators”/Hitachi magic wand.
> 
> Her concerns about choking are 100% rational and justified (it is very easy to choke someone to death!) but in the unique case of Caine, who not only survived being hauled into the air by a sargon tail wrapped around his neck, but didn’t even seem to suffer lasting damage from it, I don’t think she has anything to worry about. However, as Jupiter was busy beating Balem with a pipe/not falling to her death at the time, she doesn’t know this, and apparently Caine hasn’t shared.
> 
> As the plot of this thing grows, so too do the OCs. I’m very sensitive to the fact that OCs in fanfic can jerk a reader out of the story, so I’m trying my best to make them fit stylistically within the JA universe.
> 
> Hilaria Savin (who is actually a chipmonk splice) and Fillien Estarte/Estarte Nectars, Inc. are my attempt to explore Entitled-who-are-not-Abrasax. Gurnogheth has already been introduced. And although Chariot Lady is from the film, I have taken the liberty of giving her a name and a personality of my own invention.
> 
> As with everything I’ve invented for this story, I consider them a contribution to the JA transformative fandom, and anyone who wants to use them or inspiration from them in their fics are more than welcome to.
> 
> I had to do a lot of thinking about Caine’s back story and who he bit and what the hell happened. Some of it I did aloud, [here](http://elrondxrn.tumblr.com/post/112852418589/so-who-did-caine-bite), which may help explain why I’m going the route with it that I am in this story.
> 
> I also got asked by a nice tumblr user for some tips/resources for writing femdom and I kinda word-barfed. But it might be helpful/interesting to others, [so here’s the link for that, too](http://elrondxrn.tumblr.com/post/112848273624/ah-just-saw-your-reply-thanks-i-think-it-was).
> 
> This fic is turning into a right little narrative, but I think I’ll be able to keep it to the original six planned chapters. But there may be an epilogue. ;)
> 
> Once again thanks so much for reading! Keep ascending!


	5. Learning to Disobey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An advanced level of training for service animals who must recognize and ignore commands given to them when they are not in their handler’s best interests.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we go guys! Sorry it took so long: this is basically Revenge of the Plot and I had to do a lot of, well, plotting, to make sure everything worked out.
> 
> Also I might as well own the fact that this baby is gonna be seven full chapters. *flails*
> 
> Note the new tag for this chapter: Attempted Sex Pollen
> 
> Emphasis on the *attempted* part.
> 
> Enjoy!

**Interlude II**

 

They were late for dinner. Mostly because Jupiter had forgotten that she didn’t actually have a ship of her very own, and there had nearly been a civil war in Caine’s kitchen between Gurnogheth (who wanted to transport them aboard her troop carrier) and Chicanery Night (who insisted she take his shuttle). Crisis was averted, however, with the arrival of a small, humanoid woman who looked part crab.

She was completely bald—not even eyebrows or eye-lashes—but her skin more than made up for lack of hair. She had iridescent blotches of green and yellow over her skull, her face was bright blue, her ears were blue with red feelers sprouting from the tips, and her eyes were pink orbs with tiny, pin-prick pupils. Two more red feelers sprouted from under her chin, while a pair of feather-like fronds dangled on either side of her neck. They had bright red, frilly edges, with blue-and-green centers, ringed in yellow. Her arms, crossed over her drab plate armor, had a strange exoskeletal structure which ran from her elbows down and over her hands. This was blotched fiery red and orange, blown to white in places with color so vivid they seemed to glow. All in all, it put Jupiter in mind of a peacock’s tail crossed with a magic rainbow dusted with the shavings from a box of neon crayons.

She was an inch shorter than Jupiter, lithe and slim, yet exuded such a hostile presence that Gurnogheth took step back and Chicanery Night went mute in surprise. Unless they were simply taken aback by the colors.

One arm snapped out, lightning fast (Chicanery Night flinched), and the woman saluted Jupiter.

“Greetings, your majesty,” she said in a dry, rasping voice. “Lieutenant Smasher Mantine of the Ninety-Fifth Legion of Seareavers, at your service. You chariot awaits.”

“My chariot?” said Jupiter, blinking rather.

There was a crash in the hall, and Morlanda stuck her head in.

“Come along, Lady Jupiter,” she said, looking entirely too perky for a woman who was half boat. “I polished my stern specially. Let’s go show this Fillien brat who he’s dealing with!”

So it was they left Earth aboard Smasher’s corvette, which Caine pointed out with satisfaction, not only looked impressive, but had a lot of large guns and a unit of elite Legionnaires.

“I’m going to have _dinner_ with him, not start a war,” Jupiter protested.

“The one leads to the other more often than you might think,” Chicanery Night said, diffidently brushing a piece of lint off the shoulder of Jupiter’s coat.

“Great, that’s a real confidence booster, thanks.”

“Anything to be of service, ma’am.”

 

 

**5\. Learning to Disobey**

_An advanced level of training for service animals who must recognize and ignore commands given to them when they are not in their handler’s best interests._

 

The first thing Jupiter said when she saw Prince Fillien’s ship was: “Is that a flower or a boat?”

“I believe the technical term is ‘palace ship,’” Caine said. He did not sound impressed.

Jupiter looked out the window at the floating, pearly object that reminded her of a peony.

“This is gonna be Titus all over again,” she sighed.

“No, it won’t,” said Caine.

Jupiter tore her eyes away from the improbable ship, looking up at the man beside her. Caine was in full combat gear—black armor, boots, and a special shield generator for his wings. He’d put the eyeliner on thick, making his blue gaze even more piercing. If he had hackles, Jupiter was certain, they would be up.

“No,” said Jupiter, taking his hand. “You won’t have to break through a wall of warhammers this time.”

His fingers closed around her hand.

“And you’re not getting married.”

 

If Hilaria Savin was surprised to see Jupiter arrive wearing plain clothes riding in a chariot with a real (and talking!) woman attached to the prow, flanked by a sargon and a winged lycantant and preceded by a small Legionnaire who looked like a prism had vomited on her face, she hid it very well.

“We are honored that your majesty has accepted our humble invitation,” she said as she hurried down the gangway—which was sculpted to look like the curling stamen of a flower—and bowed low to them.

She had to shuffle hastily out of the way as Smasher continued marching, leading the little procession straight up and into the gaping maw of the palace ship, which opened before them like the petals of a rose. Falling in to trot beside Jupiter, she continued to speak, a little frantically.

“If your majesty is in need of any material items—jewelry, frocks, shoes, and the like—the _Nerefstaria_ would be happy to provide—”

Jupiter fixed the little woman with a cold, blank stare.

“I’m wearing this,” she said. She’d chosen her nicest pair of black slacks, a black dress shirt, and the Aegis jacket Captain Tsing had given her as a present when she heard how much Jupiter liked it. She was also wearing her gravity boots, because it couldn’t hurt.

“Yes, of course, your majesty,” said Hilaria Savin, weakly. They had reached the petal-like gate which led into the body of the ship, and Smasher had at last deigned to stop on account of the fact that Prince Fillien had just dropped down via a zero-g beam and come to rest in her path.

From all the floral motifs associated with his ship Jupiter had been expecting someone equally extravagant. What she found, when Morlanda came to a grudging halt behind Smasher, was a medium-sized man with pale, silky skin and dark hair brushed back in a severe wave. His eyes were brightly hazel, and danced with a light that seemed to spill out over his sculpted cheeks. Though not exceptionally tall, he gave off the appearance of being larger than he was by standing very straight, and having an impeccable body. Jupiter could tell he had an impeccable body because his suit—which was more like an understated evening dress—clung tightly to his sides and left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

He smiled when he saw her looking, his lips red and glossy, but otherwise he wore remarkably little makeup. Jupiter began to wonder if their impending interaction—she had no plans to actually eat anything—might not be as uncomfortable as she feared.

“Do not trouble our guest, Hilaria,” he said, his voice a pleasantly soft rumble. “Lady Jupiter, it is an honor to meet you in person.” He bowed, and waited patiently while Caine helped her down from the chariot.

“Yes, hi,” said Jupiter, suddenly feeling underdressed and awkward. Like Cinderella turning up at the ball barefoot in her rags.

_But I’m wearing rocket boots,_ she reminded herself, and refused to believe she would have felt more comfortable in a slinky, flattering dress.

“You sounded like you really wanted to meet me, so I figured I’d better come see what the deal is.” She stuck out a hand instead of returning the bow.

Prince Fillien was only momentarily unbalanced. He reached forward and clasped her hand delicately with his fingertips, giving it the merest shake, before pulling his back into his voluminous sleeve.

“You are as forceful a personality as I was informed,” he said, light amusement dancing in his eyes.

Behind her, Caine began to growl. It was very low, and so quiet it might have been mistaken for the grumble of a far-off engine.

“So,” said Jupiter, a little louder than was needed. “Dinner?”

Dinner was served in a lavish room that put Jupiter more in mind of a boudoir than a dining room. The polished, wooden table stood on a small pedestal of greenish stone sculpted to look like a giant leaf, and the chairs had cushions so deep and soft she sank in for inches. An elaborate glass flower hung from the ceiling doubled as a light fixture, and the walls were covered in blooming vines growing up through holes in the floor. The air was thick with their sweet, heady perfume, concentrated by the rich, green carpet which covered the floor.

After checking the room over thoroughly Caine declared himself grudgingly satisfied, and went to stand outside the door—across from Fillien’s own guard—so the two royals could talk in privacy.

That was the reason Fillien gave for sending them outside, but Jupiter saw Caine touch his ear discretely, and she nodded.

She had her communication button in, and it was on. Caine would be able to hear everything that passed between them inside the room. It was this knowledge which prevented her from panicking the moment the door closed behind him.

Squaring her shoulders she faced Prince Fillien down the length of the table, gripping the edge of it for support.

“Right,” she said. “First thing’s first: I’m not marrying you.”

Prince Fillien paused in the middle of taking the lid off a dish of what looked like an entire roast bird of some kind, garnished with small, purple flowers. He gave her an arch look, and then laughed.

“I didn’t expect you would,” he said. “But it got your attention, did it not?”

“It got me curious,” Jupiter said. “About what you really want.”

Prince Fillien began working his way down the table, uncovering more and more dishes. Though some were pies, or soups, or loaves of bread, the theme of flowers repeated again and again.

“Despite appearances, Lady Jupiter,” he was saying as he took the lid off platter of delicate pastries with pansies stuck in the middle. “I am a simple man with simple wants. I desire peace and prosperity for myself and my friends, comfort and security for my loved ones, and perhaps a little fun on the weekends. I can understand why you would suspect me of ulterior motives, given your past experiences, but Estarte is not Abrasax: I meant what I said when I suggested the merger of our enterprises would be mutually beneficial.”

He had come up to her end of the table, and Jupiter was aware of a faint perfume which breathed off him whenever he moved. It was fresh and clear, and put her in mind of water lilies.

_I am in the presence of a man who can pull off floral perfume,_ she thought suddenly. _Be careful._

He reached across to the dish directly in front of her—another blast of water lilies—and in removing its domed lid revealed, not a dish of food, but an elaborate bouquet of brilliant orange buds, tightly curled shut. A faint tracery of blue lines suggested a barrier protecting them, which was confirmed a moment later when Prince Fillien deactivated it with a touch of his hand, and the buds unfurled into luscious, spreading flowers. They had bright gold centers and breathed a heady scent over Jupiter that made her dizzy.

“Mezurine lava blossoms,” he explained, giving the dish an artful turn so Jupiter could see the flowers from a better angle. It brought another waft of their strong oder and Jupiter thought she might sneeze. “They grow only in the alcazar of my personal estate, and are a variety of my own devising. I make a present of them to you—with no obligations attached.”

In the realm of romantic overtures it was neither as presumptuous nor as creepy as Titus’s monstrous ring, but Jupiter still felt awkward as she took the plate and turned it about, trying her best not to inhale.

“How lovely,” she said, setting it aside.

Fillien pushed the dish of floral pastries aside and rested casually against the edge of the table. He was close enough that he could reach out and touch her, but he kept his hands carefully folded in his lap.

“There is more loveliness where I come from,” he said, softly. “I know your introduction to the world at large was not a pleasant one, but it is my hope that I will be able to convince you of its… incredible capacity for beauty.”

Jupiter looked up at him. Had the lights changed, or had his skin taken on a faint, golden aura? And why was she just now noticing the adorable cleft in his chin, and the way his cheeks dimpled slightly, when he gave her a small, secret smile. She blinked fiercely, trying to clear her head.

“If it’s beauty built off of dead planets I don’t want to see it,” she said, the words surprisingly thick and bitter in her mouth. She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. Instinctively she reached for the nearest glass… only to find it filled with a rich, red wine. Not the thing, considering she was beginning to feel dizzy.

“Oh, I do agree,” said Prince Fillien, his voice gone even more soft and luxuriant. Almost like a cat’s purr. “Do not think that there are none who find the current situation untenable. In fact, there are many who actively seek a means to a better way of life—of which I am but a humble party. Which is one reason why I believe a partnership between us would be exceptionally… fruitful. With our unique assets…”

“What unique assets?” Jupiter said, but the words were even harder to get out this time. It felt like she was getting drunker by the minute—but she hadn’t touched anything. Still, her mind felt like it was circling the drain, and she had to fight vigorously to maintain her capacity for critical thought.

Prince Fillien didn’t answer. He was smiling at her with a disconcerting radiance, and Jupiter had to struggle to keep her mind on track.

She was here to discover what he wanted. Not to moon about what a cutie-pie he’d turned out to be. Or… or…

“We may leave such technical discussions for later, don’t you think?” the Prince said.

Yes, technical discussions were hard. And Jupiter didn’t want to think hard right now.

Why didn’t she want to think hard?

Why was it hard to think?

She tried to stand up, and found she could barely lift herself out of her chair.

“I don’t…” she said, stopped, took a breath—those infernal flowers—and went on: “…feel so good.”

“Would you like to lie down?” Prince Fillien asked, finally reaching out and gently brushing her sleeve with his hand.

His touch felt like fire and the kiss of sunlight and desire burst in the back of Jupiter’s mind in a way that was wholly unexpected and terrifying.

With a supreme effort she pulled her arm away.

“Don’t… touch… me…” she ground out. She was doubled over the table now, her nose practically in the hideous orange flowers.

The flowers.

The smell.

With a shaking hand she swept the plate off the table, scattering the blossoms across the floor. The action disturbed the stagnant air, and in the relative freshness she felt her mind rally.

“Caine,” she said, levering herself out of her chair, but not letting go of the table. “Get me out of here.”

“Your wolf can’t hear you,” said Prince Fillien. His voice was calm, but it sounded harsher than it had a moment ago, and there was a steel note in it that sounded like cold triumph.

 

As soon as the door shut his button went dead. Caine looked across at Fillien’s guard—who was an armored security synth with a particularly blank face. It must have been more perceptive than it looked, however, because it calmly raised its sidearm and fired at his head.

Except his head was no longer there by the time the blast hit. Caine ducked and dived at the synth, butting it in the midsection and then punching straight into its neck when its head rocked forward. He got a handful of armor—tore it aside—then came in with his other hand and severed the synth’s power conductor.

“Gurnogheth, report!” he growled into his general comm before the body even hit the floor.

“They don’t seem to like us here,” came the gravelly response.

So the block only applied to people inside the room. That was something.

“Doesn’t matter,” said Caine. “We won’t be staying. Get Morlanda and bring her around—we are leaving immediately.”

“And if someone tries to stop us?” the sargon asked, her voice like the keel of a ship grinding on deadly shoals.

“Do whatever it takes,” Caine said. He was already turning to the door, trying the handle—of _course_ it was sealed—ducking aside as more guards arrived on the scene.

Violence happened then.

Or rather, Caine happened. 

It was difficult fighting in close quarters, but he was nothing if not adaptable. He had his shield, his boots, and his gun, and discovered that he _could_ punch people with his wings after all.

Somewhere in the middle of it he managed to call Smasher.

“I need you at the dining room,” he said—a little jerkily, as he picked up a guard and used it to knock down an approaching column.

“ _Coming_ ,” came the harsh response. “I am securing his control hub.”

“Piss on his control hub!” Caine roared, shooting the knees out of the nearest guard before bringing his shield up again. “I need you to open a door!”

 

Slowly, Jupiter turned to look at Prince Fillien. He’d taken a step closer, and was reaching for her.

She could not, on any account, allow him to touch her again. She’d do something she would regret, and not in the badass way.

“Let… me… go…” she said, forcing each word out, having to remind herself between each one what they meant.

Prince Fillien smiled, and Jupiter felt a strange disassociation sweep through her, as part of her saw a glowing, angelic face, and the other saw a calculating, triumphant smirk.

“Or what?” he asked, his voice a purr and a hiss at the same time. “You have no teeth, Lady Jupiter. You didn’t even discipline _Titus,_ your genetic _progeny._ Balem left you an army and you _squander_ it. You don’t know what miracles you possess! You let them waste away while universe goes on committing inconceivable atrocities for want of a solution to which you hold the key!”

 

Gurnogheth and Morlanda arrived first: the former with a piece of guard still stuck between her teeth and the latter wielding an improvised club made out of what appeared to be a piece of reinforced containment bar.

Caine looked at them across the sea of destroyed guards which had grown around him in the past few minutes.

“They try to get you, too?” he asked.

“They tried,” said Gurnogheth grimly.

“I hit Hilaria on the head,” said Morlanda, hefting her weapon. “Where is our queen?”

Wordlessly, Caine gestured at the locked door—which had so far resisted the convincing arguments of his gun, his boots, his fists, and even his temporary portal generator.

“Allow me,” said Gurnogheth, cracking her scaly knuckles. Striding forward she threw herself at the door, partially propelled by her wings, and slammed her whole weight against it.

It didn’t so much as dent.

“Hmm,” said Gurnogheth, apparently unharmed, but Caine noticed she was rubbing her knuckles tenderly.

There was a scraping sound above them, and a temporary portal opened to allow the rainbow disaster that was Smasher to drop through the ceiling.

“You’re late,” said Caine.

“I locked down the whole ship so his reinforcements won’t bother you,” snapped Smasher, by way of greeting. “You’re welcome. Now, what was it you needed?”

Caine pointed at the door.

“You want it open?” Smasher asked, her blue lips pulling into a snarling grin.

Caine nodded.

“Stand back,” said Smasher, and walked up to the door.

It was twice as tall as she was, the wooden façade blasted away by Caine’s attempts to reveal the reinforced alloy beneath. Smasher surveyed it critically. She brought her fists up into her chest, and then…

No matter how many times Caine saw it happen, he still couldn’t track the motion with his eyes. Stinger said even he had trouble following the movements of Smasher’s punch. But he’d said that it wasn’t the impact of her armored fists that caused the most damage—but the shockwave they generated.

This time it looked like a blur—a flash of fiery red and white—and with a deafening _snap_ a visible crack appeared in the door’s hiterhto impenetrable surface.

Smasher’s pink eyes narrowed dangerously; blue lips pursed, and one red feeler twitched in annoyance.

“Let’s try that again,” she said.

 

Fillien seemed a little angry now. It was hard to tell. Jupiter’s brain was having difficulty making sense of the order of things.

What was going on again?

She needed to get out.

Right. She tried making for the door, and nearly collapsed. So she leaned against the chair and tried to think of a solution.

“If you touch me I’ll kick you,” she said, for good measure. She could remember that much, at least.

A shadow swept across her vision. Prince Fillien had come around and was collecting the orange flowers from where they had scattered across the floor.

“You are resisting the effects of their pollen remarkably well,” he said.

Was that supposed to mean something? It probably did. Jupiter glared at him for good measure.

Where was Caine? Caine should have been here, she was pretty sure.

“It must be a side effect from being raised on Earth,” the prince remarked. “It would be better if you didn’t fight it, however. It will make things so much more comfortable for you.” He rose and turned, and he was holding the flowers, pushing them toward her face.

Jupiter had just enough presence of mind to lean her head back—

—and the door exploded.

In her foggy, bemused state, Jupiter’s only thought was:

_Oh, so that’s why they call her_ Smasher _._

The explosion had left a ragged hole in the wall: broken pipes had begun to smoke and there was a crackle of electricity from the severed circuits. The remains of the door lay scattered across the room—a particularly large piece had struck Prince Fillien in the back and knocked him to the ground—and in the smoke and ruin stood Smasher Mantine, a blaze of colors that dimmed even the golden flowers. Her armored fists were raised and her feelers all on end.

Jupiter felt herself sliding off the chair.

She never hit the ground. There was a blur of black and brown and she landed in a strong, warm embrace. She smelled leather and space armor; strong, earthy scents and something that reminded her of stardust.

“I’m here,” said Caine, gently gathering her into his arms.

“Hi,” said Jupiter, with difficulty. “I think… I think I want to go home.”

 

The smell was overpowering. Pheromones and hormones and something that tickled the inside of his nose—pollen? Caine got his answer a moment later when Smasher stomped into the room, took one look at the orange flowers clasped in the unconscious Entitle’s hands, and snapped them up. Holding them at arm’s length she ran out of the room. He heard Morlanda say “What the hell are— _oh!_ ” and then the rev of her gravity-jets and the faint sizzle of petals being disintegrated.

In the this time Gurnogheth had also entered, looking around at the destruction with guarded respect. Then she saw the Entitled on the ground, and pulled him up roughly by his collar.

“What is the meaning of this?” she growled, giving the man a full dose of her putrid breath (the sargons bred bacteria in their mouths, so even a non-lethal bite would prove fatal, if left untreated).

The Entitled shuddered, and moaned.

“He has compromised our queen,” Caine said, dully.

“Compromised” was an understatement. Jupiter was barely conscious, yet had an elevated heart rate and there was something about her that didn’t smell right—but it was impossible to isolate in an environment so densely packed with other smells.

“Coward,” said Gurnogheth.

“Can I eat him?” Smasher asked, putting her head back inside. The feelers under her neck snapped open and shut in anticipation, and Gurnogheth gave her a strange look. If Caine had to guess, judging by the way the sargon’s neck frilled out and her pupils dilated, she might have been a little smitten.

Unless it was just the hormones in the air. They were definitely going to start affecting him if he stayed in the room for much longer.

“No… _noo_ eating anyone,” mumbled Jupiter, feebly raising a hand.

Caine caught it with one of his own, cupping hers gently in his huge paw, and guiding it back to rest on her belly.

“Put him under arrest,” he growled, even as Smasher _clicked_ in disappointment. “You secure the ship,” he told her, firmly. “I will take her majesty to medical.” So speaking he strode through the wreckage, exhaling deeply as soon as he was out in the (relatively) fresh air. Gurnogheth and Smasher, being significantly less mammalian, could handle the cleaning up.

“What did he _do?_ ” Morlanda demanded as soon as she saw them. She hefted her piece of rebar threateningly. “Is he still _alive?_ ”

“Drugged her, I think,” said Caine, climbing up onto Morlanda’s seat. “He’s alive, and he’s going to _stay_ that way. Contact the corvette, tell them we require extraction.”

“I don’t like flowers,” Jupiter mumbled against his chest.

Her body felt frighteningly small and soft in his arms. He’d carried her before—so many times—and barely felt the weight, but before she’d always been strong and hard as steel: so vehemently _alive_ that he’d never realized just how tiny she was.

Now she was almost fluid she was so relaxed—he had to keep readjusting her head so her neck didn’t get strained—and gazing up at him with eyes that didn’t quite focus. Now they were out of the overpowering mix of scents, he could smell something on her that was both hot and spicy and yet sour—a disturbing perversion of her own scent. More disturbing still, it didn’t seem to be evaporating like the rest of the smells which they’d brought with them out of the room, and Caine realized with dawning horror that he _was_ smelling her.

It was a good thing they were heading for the nearest ejection port. If that Entitled had still been in close proximity Caine might have taken a bite out of him himself.

 

The medical team aboard the corvette was a unit of trauma surgeons, first aid medics, regen specialists, and a gifted chemist. They were also, in Caine’s opinion, completely useless.

“What do you mean you can’t help her?” he asked, letting his words out slowly, one at a time, so they didn’t turn into snarling bites.

The chemist, who had been nominated unanimously by the team as the one most qualified to diagnose and treat the injured monarch, nervously tightened her ear down. She was a heavily modified synth whose only human characteristic was her (somewhat battered) face plate, and got about on eight spidery legs—any one of which could double as an extra hand, when needed.

“I mean to say there is nothing I can do for her,” she said, with the excruciating calm only a synth was capable of. “This is not a toxin with which I am familiar. It seems to have been fully absorbed by her system, and without a clean sample I could not generate and antidote. _However,_ ” she added hastily, seeing her untimely retirement in the expression on Caine’s face, “it also appears she is metabolizing it with only a moderate amount of distress. At current rates I estimate it will be out of her system within twelve hours—and she should begin feeling better within the next six. In the mean time the best thing that can be done is for her to rest in a quiet, safe environment, and stay well hydrated—and you don’t need me to administer _water._ ”

Caine wanted to rip off the synth’s head and scream directly into her twiddly little ear that _any_ amount of distress was unacceptable. That, furthermore, there was something very, very _wrong_ with his queen that needed fixing _now._ But since he could only describe this wrongness as a sour aftertaste to her scent and the way it made his skin crawl and the fact that seeing her so small and soft and weak terrified him more than a wall of warhammers, he just rested his fist on the exam table and tried to calm his breathing.

A tired, floppy hand was raised into the air, patting at his arm, before working its way up to rest on his shoulder.

“Mmokay, Caine,” Jupiter whispered, but her eyes were unfocused and staring off over Caine’s left ear, and there was an unnaturally bright, pink blush on her face. The hand on his shoulder felt around, dragging itself across to rest on his chest. He felt it only by the touch of heat—she didn’t have the strength to put any pressure behind it. It made his heart hammer in the not-fun way. The way that said _danger, danger,_ fight, fight!

But there was no one to fight. Just the stupid drug in his queen’s system, which was one of the few places he could not go and fight for her.

“Don’t be scared,” Jupiter slurred, and Caine realized he’d started shaking. He took a few deep breaths, concentrating on exhaling fully, and she smiled lopsidedly at him. “Tha’ss good,” she drawled. “Jus’ keep’n breathing.”

“I do not recommend leaving her alone, however,” the synth commented. “If you like we can put her under observation for the night.”

The thought of Jupiter in one of medical’s observation pods—which Caine knew and hated from intimate experience—sent a whole new wave of revulsion through him. He shook his head.

“I will watch her,” he said, gently lifting her off the table. She curled into him, soft and hot—but still sour-smelling. It wafted up from her so strongly he had to shut his eyes and breathe through his mouth for a moment before he could carry her out of medical and up two decks to the empty suite of rooms which were his by rights, but until now he had never thought he’d use.

They were dry and sterile, with the sort of stark tidiness that only comes from not being lived-in. But they were safe, secure, and most of all, quiet.

He laid Jupiter carefully on the bunk which should have been his, never minding that she still had her boots on, and went through to the little wash room to fill a glass of water.

When he came back she was sitting up on the bunk, had shed her jacket, and was working on her shirt.

“Majesty, no,” Caine said, coming to kneel before her and gently pulling her hands away.

“’Mmtoo hot,” Jupiter mumbled, plucking ineffectually at the hem of her shirt.

She wasn’t too hot, that was the problem. Caine could tell by touch whether a human was running a fever, and Jupiter’s physical profile hadn’t shown an elevated temperature anyway. Whatever she was feeling, it was all in her own head.

“That’s just the drug talking,” Caine told her, even though he doubted she could understand. “Here, this will help,” he said, pressing the glass into her free hand.

“Whaz this?” Jupiter said, peering into the glass.

“Water,” said Caine. “Drink it. It will help you clear the poison.”

“Don’t feel sick,” Jupiter muttered, but drank the water, sloppily. Caine had to go get a towel and dry her chin and neck afterwards. 

She was far too malleable, he thought, feeling her tilt her head back agreeably, baring her throat unnecessarily to his ministrations. Even scared and confused and terminally naive, she’d never been so… so _passive._

She was smiling at him, dopily, and Caine tried to be comforted by the sight—but there was something not right with the smile. Something too hazy and soft. _Not all there._

“S’nice,” she said, leaning further back so he had to bend over her. “Like you takin’ care of me.”

“I always take care of you,” Caine said. _Even when you didn’t know me. Even when I didn’t know you,_ he thought. “I always will,” he said aloud, taking advantage of her reclining position to try and get her feet back up on the bunk.

She didn’t resist, but her feet felt limp and heavy under his hands, and she sank back against the bed, stretching her shoulders in a way that was almost suggestive.

“You’ll take care of me now, won’t you?” she asked, trailing a finger up his arm and back down again. Caine felt it, even through his coat, sharp as a current of electricity. “’M so _hot_ , Caine. Need something. Need you. I’ve got some fire in me, eating me. Need you… _want_ you…”

Her limp hand turned momentarily claw-like, but then fell away—as if that momentary action had drained her energy. But now Caine could smell, heady and musky, even under the sour aftertaste, the unmistakable smell of ardent arousal. And that was…

…that was not exactly surprising, he realized bitterly. In the vast ocean of underhanded tricks and schemes employed by the Entitled, drugging a prospective partner with an aphrodisiac was not unheard of. It did make him wish that he’d let Gurnogheth eat Fillien. No, he wished _he’d_ had the nerve to ignore Jupiter’s orders and eat the bastard himself.

Because now he’d pulled away, and Jupiter was pawing at him, practically _whining_ his name and she smelled… she smelled like…

She smelled like a hot, summer afternoon with freshly tilled earth and the hum of insects—a place Caine had never been, but always imagined when he thought of _home._ She also smelled of something richer, darker: blood and spice and the sharp, overpowering scent of _want._ It was so strong it momentarily eclipsed the sour aftertaste, making Caine dizzy. He could feel his own body responding, even while his mind dug in its heels and tried to back away from the thought.

She was compromised. She wasn’t thinking clearly. This was not the time too…

“ _Caine,_ ” she breathed, having somehow pulled herself upright again so she could cling to his neck, pushing her face up to his and breathing into him. She said his name again, stretching it into two syllables: “ _Ca-aine…_ ”

The problem was, Caine couldn’t resist the smell of her arousal. It bypassed his carefully guarded human brain and went straight to the base animal, which responded immediately and with vigor. It still amazed him sometimes: how he could watch Jupiter changing her clothes—even _change her clothes for her_ —and if she wasn’t aroused he felt nothing. Her body was just a body, albeit a pleasing one to look at. It didn’t stir anything in him beyond an increase in the general background radiation of affection he constantly felt for her.

One whiff of her arousal, however, and he could feel himself begin to devolve into a lust-crazed animal. As he was now, drenched in it, it was all he could do to gently clasp her delicate head and push it away.

“Now isn’t a good time,” he whispered. He felt her head shake between his hands.

“Now is the _best_ time, Caine,” she said, sounding almost her old self. “I am _so_ wet you wouldn’t believe. Can’t have you eat me out—you’d drown in it. Want you inside me, Caine. Fill me up with that wonderful cock of yours. Always feels _so_ good. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

The really horrible thing was, he _would._ His body had answered her call like the well-trained dog he was, and the base part of him wanted nothing more than to _rip_ her flimsy pants off, bend her over the bunk and—

But he was _not_ his base self. That was a part of him, yes, but there was an equally important part that was disgusted by the idea. That part of him found it so revolting he felt physically ill, and caught between the two warring desires he was rendered momentarily frozen.

Jupiter took that as an opportunity to kiss him.

And he couldn’t stop her. He felt himself close down a little in disbelief, like he always did, but his lips parted at her unspoken request and then he was kissing her back—fiercely, almost ferociously. And she opened for him, gave way to his advances, in a way that felt like surrender, and the beast inside him howled in triumph.

_She tasted wrong._

Caine jerked his head back so fast his neck complained—and it took a _lot_ for his neck to complain about anything.

The sourness was _in_ her. Not only her scent, but her saliva and her skin. Like a lemon gone bad, it made Caine’s mouth go temporarily numb, and sent his instincts into a tailspin.

He wanted her. Wanted her more than anything. Any way she’d have him—any way she’d let him have her.

He didn’t want her like this.

Luckily, thanks to her scrupulous forethought, he knew exactly what to do.

“No,” he said, placing one hand carefully on her shoulder and pushing her away.

For once he met resistance, but the wrong kind. She pressed back into his hand, shifting so his grip slid down to rest on her breast. He took his hand away.

“ _Please,_ Caine,” she said, practically plowing into his chest. “I _need_ this—I need _you_ — _now._ ”

He was excruciatingly hard, and he could feel his pulse pounding in his skull, but his own arousal had faded into the background. He could smell the sourness now, hidden in her arousal, and it was enough to let all the hot air out of him.

There was a lot of beast inside him. But that wasn’t all of him. He was a _person,_ just like she’d said.

_We are alike, in all the ways that matter._

_You’re a good person._

His queen. Her past actions coming back to save him from herself. He had to shut his eyes.

“I can’t,” he said. He took a breath. “I don’t want to.”

“Come _on,_ Caine,” said Jupiter, sounding more annoyed than anything else. One of her hands strayed down, groping him clumsily through his trousers, and he stifled a yelp. “I _know_ you do,” she said, a note of triumph in her voice. “Wouldn’t you like to be on top for once? Hmm? Know what it feels like to just take and take and _take?_ I need you to fuck me, Caine, fill me up and fucking _breed_ me—I am so ready.”

Caine’s mouth had gone dry. He shut it and breathed through his nose, but that was worse: the scent of her arousal combined with the sourness, which was practically a miasma by this point, made him light-headed.

On the other hand, it hammered home to him the fact that Jupiter wasn’t herself at the moment. _His_ queen stopped when he said no. _His_ queen respected that there were some things he couldn’t do. His queen made him feel _safe_ when she grabbed him by the hair and pushed him onto his back. And when she held him down and rode him it felt like freedom.

Now he felt trapped between too vicious, mindless animals, and he didn’t like it at all.

“No,” he repeated, shaking his head for emphasis. Gently he peeled her questing hand off him, barely suppressing a shudder, and stepped back. “Not now,” he said. “Not… like this.”

“Why not?” Jupiter asked. Her voice had gone confused and hurt, and there was a lost expression on her face that made Caine physically _ache._ He wanted to wrap himself around her, keep her safe, but he knew that would only make things worse.

“You are not yourself,” he said, slowly and sincerely, but he felt helpless. He didn’t expect her to understand, and she didn’t.

“Of course I’m _me,_ ” she said, reaching for him. He pulled back further, and her expression crumbled into one of unmistakable heartbreak. 

“ _Caine,_ ” she said, sounding a little desperate. “Why don’t you want me? What’s wrong with me?” She was starting to shiver, goosebumps rising along her bare arms.

He couldn’t _not_ do something.

“I _do,_ ” Caine said, letting the words out in a rush. He leaned in and closed his arms around her shoulders, unfurling his wings as much as the confined quarters would allow, and wrapping her up in them. As if by his presence he could force away the sour smell. Belatedly, he realized he was still talking.

“I do, I do,” he whispered into her hair. “I do want you—I love you—I love you so much. I’d be lost—I _was_ lost—without you. There’s nothing wrong with you—you’re perfect to me.”

Her words, again, coming back to save him. Caine momentarily hoped she didn’t remember any of this—and then decided he didn’t care.

“Caine,” she moaned into his chest, her voice sounding tiny and broken. “Caine, it _hurts._ ”

“It’ll pass,” Caine said. How long had it been since her exposure? An hour? Maybe two? He couldn’t say it would be over soon, so he borrowed other words someone had once said to him.

“You’re stronger than you think,” he told her. “You can fight this. You can win.”

“You smell _really_ good,” Jupiter mumbled, trying to hook a leg around his waist so she could grind down onto him.

“That is—just the drug talking,” Caine gasped, reaching down so he could lift her off him.

He felt her head roll against his chest. 

“No,” she said. “You really, really do. And you taste _amazing_ —did I ever tell you that? Like stardust.”

_I’m a botched splice stitched together with rage and stubbornness with a hole in his mind—_

The words rose like bile in this throat but he choked them down. For whatever reason Jupiter didn’t see him like that, and sometimes he could almost believe her.

She was still talking, nosing into his arm—his wing—inhaling deeply.

“My stardust,” she mumbled, muffled but distinct. “My angel—wolf—boy—friend—thing. You’re such a good—”

“I should go,” Caine said, hoarsely and louder than was strictly necessary. Because he couldn’t hear those words. Not now. 

Reluctantly he pulled his wings in and pushed himself away.

“I will be right outside,” he told Jupiter, who was gasping at the loss of contact. “You’ll be safe here.”

“No, no, no, _no,_ ” Jupiter said, the words slurring together into one long wail. “No _nonono…_ ” she reached for him, half stood, and fell.

He couldn’t not catch her.

“No, no, no,” she said gripping his arms and burying her face into his chest. He could feel the heat of her, even though his uniform. She was shaking under his hands. “No, no, _please_ stay. Please, please, _please_ don’t go. I can’t—I won’t—Caine, it _hurts_ —please don’t leave me alone.” 

Her voice had broken; now it was a ragged whine, the cry of a wounded animal. The sound of it went straight through his carefully constructed humanity, stirring in him an entirely different set of instincts. These were not the ravenous, blood-thirsty desires of the beast: rather, they were the even more primal instincts that said _here is someone I care about who is injured, they must be protected._

It was the same as the strange urge which had compelled him to say “ _I’m here to help you,_ ” all those months ago, when he’d first rescued her from the keepers and the clinic. Even though he hadn’t come to think of her as someone he should _help_ until later—after the snafu with their extraction, after he’d realized what she was, and then, after he realized what she _really_ was.

Unless he’d known in that instant, and just hadn’t admitted it until later.

When he thought of it like that, suddenly everything became ridiculously easy.

“Shh,” he said, slowly coaxing her back into bed. “Okay, okay. I’ll stay. Just, lie down. Rest.”

“You too?” she asked, groggy but hopeful.

“No,” Caine said, as gently as he could. “I have to keep watch.”

But he sat on the end of the bunk and took her boots off, tucked her feet under the blankets, and pulled them up over her waist.

Which was as far as he got before her hands came up and grabbed his, trying to pull them to her chest. But he held himself still, and eventually her hands fell away with a faint whine.

“Caine,” she moaned.

“It hurts, I know,” said Caine, coming to kneel beside the bunk. That way he could keep his face close to her, but with a physical barrier between their bodies. Resting his chin next to her shoulder he peered closely at her face.

Her cheeks were bright red, and her lips were dry. She should probably drink more water. But he didn’t dare leave her—not yet.

“It’s going to hurt,” he said, matter of factly. “But not forever. It’s just for tonight. You can get through this.”

Jupiter swallowed, and looked up at the ceiling. She grimaced.

“Stay close?” she asked. “It’s… easier. If you’re near.”

“I won’t go anywhere,” Caine promised. “I’ll stay right here.”

And he did. For the next three hours of fitful tossing and turning and two more outbursts of crying. He stayed, albeit chancing trips for more water, propping Jupiter’s head up so he could help her drink.

Then, after Caine heard the bottom rotation go off—the ship’s version of midnight—Jupiter needed to use the bathroom. Immediately.

She was still unsteady on her feet, and Caine had to help her across the room. Luckily, however, she had the coordination to manage the space toilet on her own, and he waited patiently by the closed door.

She came out sans trousers and underwear, and Caine gave up on trying to get her back into them. He considered it a victory that he managed to get her back into the bed.

After that, bless whatever extradimensional consciousness looked after poor, defective splices, she seemed calmer. The sour scent was beginning to fade, and after another hour, she slept.

But Caine sat next to the bunk and, though he was dead tired and ached in places he hadn’t known existed until quite recently, didn’t. He remained awake, on guard, tense if not exactly alert, even as her breathing leveled out and, of her own free will, she burrowed deep under the covers and slept, her head half buried in the regulation pillow.

 

To Jupiter it felt like waking from a dream of the worst hangover she’d ever had. With bells on. There was an ache behind her eyeballs and her mouth tasted like something furry had curled up and died in it.

Peeling her eyes open she found herself in a stark, gray room. It reminded her of the one she’d been given on Captain Tsing’s cruiser, only rougher, drier. Less lived-in. Everything was hard, functional angles and the floor was bare metal. The only piece of furniture besides the bunk she was presently lying on was a magnetic chair stuck to the floor a few feet away.

Caine was sitting in it, his huge shoulders slumped and his hands resting in his lap. His face was downcast, his eyes closed, but he sat too still, breathed too carefully, for Jupiter to believe he was asleep.

Sure enough, she’d barely been blinking at him for a moment when he opened his eyes and looked back.

He looked _terrible._ His eyes were red rimmed and there was a gaunt, hollowness to his cheeks that made the bones stand out sharply in the cool, blue light. There was also a crevice in his brow which only deepened when he saw she was awake.

“Jupiter?” he asked. He sounded hesitant, uncertain. Almost frightened.

Like fog thinning Jupiter’s memory began to stretch back beyond the immediate past, and she realized with a cold horror that the nightmare she’d had of being roofied by Prince Fillien had not been a nightmare after all. It had been like… like being immensely turned on and disorientated at the same time. And Smasher had destroyed a door. And then Caine had showed up. And then…

…then the fog closed in again, and when she tried to peer through it all she got was a headache.

“I think I need some water,” Jupiter said, putting a hand to her forehead in an attempt to stop the piston which was currently hammering inside her skull.

Caine got up and once and went through into an adjoining room, followed shortly by the sound of running water. The sound knocked loose another sensation in Jupiter’s body as she realized how desperately full her bladder was.

She went to sit up.

And discovered she had no pants on.

So. Half naked in a bed after being roofied. Not otherwise injured, as far as she could tell, but Jupiter still had to take several deep, calming breaths before the spike of panic receded; to be replaced by a healthy level of alarm.

“Caine?” she said, feeling her voice crack.

The man’s blond head appeared in the doorway, along with the rest of him. He was carrying a small glass of water.

“Caine,” said Jupiter. “Where are my pants?”

Caine looked down and to the side. For a horrible moment Jupiter thought he was averting his eyes out of shame, until she followed his gaze and found her pants and her underwear neatly folded in a pile by the bunk. They didn’t seem ripped or torn or otherwise compromised, and Jupiter tried to take courage in that. 

Still.

“Why am I not wearing them?” she asked.

Caine swallowed hard and crossed the room with careful, measured steps. His boots clumped heavily on the metal floor.

“You took them off,” he said, still not meeting her eyes as he offered her the glass of water.

Jupiter took the glass but didn’t drink. “And… you couldn’t put them back on me?”

Caine, face downcast, shook his head.

“Caine,” said Jupiter, feeling the bubble of panic rising in her chest again. “What _happened?_ ”

Caine took a deep breath; ground his teeth. “Prince Fillien dosed you with an obscure toxin. It compromised your physical coordination and judgement and caused—”

“ _Yeah,_ ” Jupiter interrupted. “I got that. And we’ll deal with him, believe me. But _first_ we gotta deal with _this,_ ” she waved a hand at the space between them. Fixing him with a stare she knew he would feel, even if he wouldn’t meet her eyes, she said: “What happened _after_ that?”

Caine actually flinched away from her. Not like someone ashamed of having done something wrong, Jupiter realized. No, more like a scared dog.

Suddenly her concerns pivoted 180 degrees and shot off in the opposite direction. She was no longer concerned over what might have been done _to_ her, but what _she_ might have done…

If her judgement had been compromised…

…and she had been so very, _very_ turned on.

And Caine had clearly been with her the whole time.

_Oh god._

“Caine,” she said, trying to keep her voice gentle but still coming out with a hard undertone. “Caine, did I do something to you?”

Caine’s head jerked up and he finally looked at her—but only for a moment. Then his eyes twitched sideways to stare at the wall as he answered.

“No,” he said.

His posture still screamed _please don’t hit me._

“Bullshit,” said Jupiter, setting her glass down untouched so she could swing her legs off the bunk and start pulling on her pants. “Caine, if I did something—or said something—that—I don’t know. Just—please. I can’t remember, and I _need_ to know.”

_I need to know if I told you what goes through the back of my head when we fuck. If I said the things I want to say but don’t want you to hear._ _I need to know if I ruined the best thing that’s ever happened to me._

Caine exhaled windily and resettled his wings, as though his spine had got an itch.

“You didn’t…” he began. “We didn’t… I didn’t…” he pursed his lips. “Nothing happened.”

Jupiter zipped up her pants and raised an eyebrow.

“Okay,” she said, slowly. “Then… did I say something?”

Caine was still looking away from her, but she could see how his face screwed up in pain, quickly stomped down.

“You were not yourself,” he said shortly. “I doesn’t matter.”

It was killing her. There was a hard lump in her throat and she felt light-headed from worry.

“Caine, if I said something that hurt you, or that’s eating at you, it _matters,_ ” she said. “Heck, this matters because it’s eating at _me._ ” She cast around for something— _anything_ —she could say. “Look, I know you _know_ what it’s like to lose a piece of yourself. To… have done things you can’t remember but changed your life anyway. So please… just… can you give this piece back to me?”

Caine opened his mouth. Shut it again. Slowly he raised his head and finally— _finally_ he looked at her.

“You… said… some things,” he began, jerkily. “They were not… in accordance… with your nature. It was distressing, but… I knew they did not reflect your true desires, so I ignored them.”

Jupiter felt a sinking sensation in her heart. Still, it would be better to know.

“Caine,” she whispered. “Please tell me.”

It felt like throwing herself on her own dagger. But it would be better this way, she told herself. It would be better to _know._

Caine winced, then swallowed. His mouth moved, forming words that wouldn’t come. He had to look away again.

Oh, this was _not_ good. She’d probably gone full gags and bondage, tit clamps and ass-riding with a dollop of creative use of dildos. Or she’d called him a dog. She wondered which would be worse. Unless she’d done both, in which case…

“Caine, whatever it is, I won’t be mad,” she whispered.

_At least not at you. Never at you, my perfect, beautiful, impossible dream-come-true._

Caine had to try a couple more times with the silent words before they came out at all audibly. Even then they were hushed, choked things, and Jupiter had to strain to catch them.

“You… you asked me to…” he began. His mouth went on moving, but no more words came out. He frowned, set his jaw, and tried again. “You asked me to fuck you,” he breathed.

Jupiter carefully raised both her eyebrows. “And?”

Caine chewed on his lips, unhappily. “Not… not like we have. You wanted me to… to take you. To dominate you. To just…” he took in a sharp breath. “You told me to breed you.”

“Oh…” said Jupiter, feeling as though the rug had been jerked out from under her. Then her brain caught up with what he’d actually said.

“Oh, _shit_ ,” she said. “That was _really_ insensitive. I’m sorry.”

Caine shrugged unhappily, but then he smiled—just a little.

“You were not yourself,” he said, but he still seemed tense.

“Okay,” said Jupiter. “And… that was all?”

She barely dared hope… and yet.

Caine cast his eyes skyward, as if going over a checklist in his mind. “Your Majesty did make some complimentary, if fanciful, remarks regarding my personal scent and… taste.” He looked down and to the side. “We kissed. You groped me a little. You needed to use the bathroom in the middle of the night—that’s when you took your pants off.”

Jupiter blinked. That _couldn’t_ have been all there was. Why did he still look so unhappy?

“But aside from from me demanding pretty vanilla, penis-in-vagina sex, that was pretty much _it?_ ”

Caine shrugged again, but he met her eyes when he nodded and said, “Pretty much.”

“But…” said Jupiter, trying to make the broken pieces Caine had given her fit together. “We _didn’t_ actually have sex?”

Caine gravely shook his head.

“You didn’t…”

Caine nodded.

“Even though I…”

“You were not yourself,” Caine said, simply.

His understated sincerity hit Jupiter like a punch to the chest. _Right in the feels,_ she thought distantly as she fought the sudden urge to cry. Then it was her turn to look away.

“Oh,” she said faintly. She summoned up a weak smile, and glanced back at him. “ _Thank you,_ ” she whispered. “I’m sure it wasn’t easy to… I mean, I’ve known guys who… never mind. Thanks.”

Silence stretched out between them in the minutes following. Into it, in a voice so small and quiet and broken he barely sounded like himself, Caine said:

“ _I wanted to._ ”

Jupiter looked over in time to see the man draw in a ragged breath. She thought, _Oh, here we go…_ and then it all came tumbling out.

“I wanted to, with something I—” Caine stumbled over and sank into the chair, burying his face in his hands. “I _wanted_ … but… I told you there’s some things I want but don’t _want_ to want. There’s a beast inside me and it _wants_ … but I don’t want what it wants. I’m not _it._ ” He looked up at her, eyes wide and earnest. Terrified, but _willing_ her to believe him.

Jupiter felt her heart crack a little.

_If only you knew, Caine._

“You know,” she said, slowly, carefully. Inching up to the frightened animal. “That’s not exactly an… _unusual_ desire. Among men.” She took a breath. “And… to be honest. It’s not something I’d be unwilling to… to try. With you.”

Caine looked stricken.

“But it’s not something _I_ want to do,” he said. “It… it wouldn’t feel right.”

Jupiter considered this. 

“That’s fair,” she said. “It’s perfectly fine if we _never_ do that. But… it’s just another experience, and maybe it’s one _I’d_ like, some time. Like… I dunno. What if I _made_ you do it? No asking, just orders.”

She held her breath.

Caine screwed his face up, as though he’d just bitten into something sour. Then his face cleared, replaced by a stunned expression.

“Oh,” he said, sounding much more like himself. “I suppose… I never thought of it _that_ way.” Then he frowned. “But how would it _work?_ ”

Jupiter shrugged. “Oh, I imagine ropes would be involved,” she said, airily. “Maybe a harness of some kind, to give me something to hold on to.”

Caine was getting a misty, far-off expression. Jupiter couldn’t help grinning.

“Really though,” she said. “It’s fine to have fantasies that _stay_ fantasies. I mean”—she took a deep, steadying breath—“god knows _I’ve_ got some desires that… well. Broken compass, like I said. And I don’t know, even if I _did_ find someone who’d be willing to do them with me… I don’t know if _I_ could handle the doing. If you know what I mean.”

Caine blinked at her, surging back to the present. He seemed more alert now; even curious.

“Like what?” he asked. So honest and _innocent_ it was staggering.

Now it was Jupiter’s turn to open and shut her mouth without any sounds coming out.

“You know, I don’t think I can talk about them… right now,” she said at last, lamely. “But… but we will. Eventually. We’ll get there.”

Caine nodded, but he was beginning to look unhappy again.

Jupiter sat up properly, picked up her glass from the floor, and downed it in one long gulp.

That was better.

“Caine,” she said, in such a way that his head snapped up immediately. She raised her hands, arms open. “Come over here,” she said.

Caine’s expression softened into something that was almost a smile. Then he slid off the chair and— _damn him_ —slunk across the floor on hands and knees. He hesitated at the last inch, resting his hands on the edge of the bunk, before she pulled him into an embrace and she felt his arms go up around her back. They were shaking, and he let out an unsteady breath across her shoulder.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, feeling his hair tickle her chin. “You did good, Caine. You did good.”

Caine mumbled something into her chest that sounded like “ _Majesty…_ ”

Jupiter leaned down to kiss his temple. “ _Good boy,_ ” she whispered, and felt his arms tighten around her. She sighed, stroking her hands across his shoulders and then down, gently smoothing the feathers of his wings.

“I don’t suppose Fillien is still alive?” she asked, a while later.

Caine’s entire torso shook with his suppressed laugh.

“Smasher and Gurnogheth wanted to eat him,” he said. “I didn’t let them. He’s under arrest, and we have his ship.”

“Mmm,” said Jupiter, still stroking the soft feathers. “That’s good.”

“Whatever you want done with him…” Caine began.

“I’m not actually sure yet,” said Jupiter. “I think…” she shifted her legs, meaningfully. “I think I _really_ need to go pee. And then I want some coffee. And then… then I’ll figure out what to do about him.”

 

The coffee did not agree with her. Her stomach, it seemed, was unable to handle anything more than water, and Jupiter spent the next several hours in Caine’s bunk, alternately sleeping and trying to read the brief Chicanery Night had put together laying out what her options were for persecuting Fillien Estarte.

It was heavy going. She had a lot of options. Vaguely, she wondered if any of them could be applied to Titus. Some of what Fillien had said was trickling back into her memory, and his jab about Titus had stung. 

To be fair, at the time she’d been rather overwhelmed by it all. It had seemed like a big bad dream she just wanted out of. Now she realized it was just the new normal, however, she supposed she should probably do _something._

He’d also said other things. Things about Earth which had not made a lot of sense at the time. They still didn’t, unless there was something important she was missing. Which there probably was.

_You don’t know what miracles you possess! You let them waste away while universe goes on committing inconceivable atrocities for want of a solution to which you hold the key!_

His words echoed through her, and now that she had the mental capacity to puzzle over them, they left her wondering.

Earth was her home. It was her _world._ Of course she would protect it at all costs. But what about the other worlds? Balem had said Earth was just one small part of a much larger operation. And it was. Looking over Seraphi’s assets, it was obvious just how small and insignificant Earth was.

She had always assumed Balem and Titus’s interest in _her_ had been attached to Seraphi’s estate as a whole, but now she wondered…

Was it all about Earth after all?

And if so… _what was it_ about Earth?

Half asleep, Jupiter wondered if it had not been random chance that Seraphi had had a recurrence. And that that recurrence— _Jupiter_ —had been born on Earth.

The next time she woke up she felt well enough to summon Chicanery Night. It was ridiculous, she thought, to lie in bed wondering about these things when she had someone she could just _ask._

“You must understand,” the fidgety man said, when she put the question to him. “I only oversaw Lord Balem’s operation of Earth. I could not compare it to his other worlds. It was, if I may say so, a very promising harvest. But only along the conventional line of things. Nothing out of the ordinary, and certainly nothing _you_ would find valuable.”

“Right,” said Jupiter. Disappointed, but then, it had been worth a try.

“Only,” said Chicanery Night, frowning a little. “He did mention something passing. Something that struck me as odd. Though Lord Balem was always doing odd things…”

Jupiter looked up abruptly. “What did he say?”

“A remark. A promise. A threat,” Chicanery Night spread his hands. “I cannot be sure. Only, when I told him that Earth would not be ripe for harvest for almost another century, he told me that he would willingly harvest Earth the next _day_ rather than let her—er, _you_ —take it from him.”

Jupiter scrunched up her face.

“And what do you think _that_ meant?” she asked.

“I could not possibly say, ma’am,” said Night, clasping his hands behind his back. “I took it to mean he was immensely invested in you not gaining control of Earth.”

Jupiter opened her mouth to ask if there was a way she could leverage more information out of Fillien Estarte without relinquishing her right to throw him to her lieutenants, when Caine appeared in the doorway.

Caine had a way of looming, Jupiter realized, when he wanted her attention. He did not exactly shuffle his wings, or perk his ears; he just suddenly appeared to take up a lot more space.

Currently he was filling the entire doorway with his presence, and he was holding a communications tablet. It had a red light, blinking on and off, at the top.

“Thank you, Mr Night,” Jupiter said instead, and waved a hand.

Chicanery Night bowed, turned to scurry away, and had to flatten himself sideways to get around Caine.

“What is it?” Jupiter asked, flopping back down on the bed as Caine ducked inside and shut the door behind him.

“High security communique,” Caine said in an odd, stilted voice. He offered the tablet to her. “From Captain Tsing. Only you can open it.”

So much had happened in the last day, Jupiter had clean forgot about Caine’s history and file. Of _course_ he’d guess what was in that communique. Of _course_ he was going to stand there, nervous and uncertain if he should stay (which he was) while she took the tablet and turned it around so she could read the header. 

Sure enough, it said right there in the subject line:

“From Captain Diomika Tsing to Jupiter Jones Abrasax, re: Court Martial records for Skyjacker 1st Class Caine Wise.”

Unsealing it with her wrist emblem, Jupiter read the first two lines ( _This was not easy to come by. Seems someone did not want the case examined. Still, it is as complete a record as any, and I believe it contains all the recorded information…_ ) and looked up to find Caine still hovering uncertainly.

“Come on,” she said, patting the piece of bed beside her. “I think you should probably see this.”

Caine came and sat beside her, more out of habit than actually wanting too. Every line of him was tense. Rough. Ready to fight or run. Or both.

“Here,” said Jupiter, offering the unsealed tablet to him.

Caine looked down, read the first two lines, and then tore his eyes away to gaze wonderingly at Jupiter.

“Don’t you want to know?” he asked.

“Sure,” said Jupiter, still holding out the tablet. “But… like… this is _your_ history, Caine. It’s _your_ missing piece. So just… I dunno, take it? You can tell me afterwards if there’s anything you think I should know.”

Slowly, like he couldn’t believe what was happening, Caine lifted a hand and took the tablet gently out of hers. Then, taking a breath and squaring his shoulders as if going into battle, he began to read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: [Now with art!](http://elrondxrn.tumblr.com/post/115433966209/if-youre-still-taking-art-prompts-the-hug-at-the)
> 
> First, a disclaimer: I don’t actually have anything against sex pollen as a trope—honestly I’ve read some sex pollen fics which were hot and awesome and adorable—but it just wasn’t gonna happen with these characters. Like I literally pitched the idea to my Inner Caine and he looked at me and said “FUCK. NO.” And I was like “ok bro we’ll do it your way…” and… yeah.
> 
> This plot sort of erupted out of a whole lot of questions I had at the end of the movie, and I hope you guys like what I’ve come up with. There’s gonna be more expansion in the next chapter (and hopefully some actual sex) but I think it’ll all come together nicely in the end. 
> 
> Smasher Mantine, the Stromatomorph Seareaver, is of course a peacock mantis shrimp splice, and her shock-wave punches are 100% a real thing. Seriously, [just go read The Oatmeal’s comic](http://theoatmeal.com/comics/mantis_shrimp) if you haven’t already. And yes, I have done artwork of her. Color artwork. [Behold the rainbow vomit](http://elrondxrn.tumblr.com/post/113850207429/posting-in-celebration-of-chapter-5-of-httyawbf).
> 
>  
> 
> The Seareavers are a division of Legionnaires which I made up; they are meant to be a counterpoint to the Skyjackers.
> 
> One thing I like to do with my OCs is cast real actors to “play” them in my head. This being so, kindly imagine Fillien as looking like a particularly pale, vampiric Sebastian Stan, and Smasher as a heavily-made-up Rinko Kuchiki.
> 
> Thank you for coming on this wild ride with me. Stay fabulous and keep ascending!
> 
> Next chapter is going to be a perfect storm of plot and sex and feels. It's called **Trust.** Wish me luck!


	6. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ideal state in which a trainer and animal operate is not one based on fear, but on mutual respect, affection, and complete trust in one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional tags for this chapter: Collars, Riding Crops, and Topping from the Bottom. Also be advised: Caine kisses a vibrator.

**6\. Trust**

_The ideal state in which a trainer and animal operate is not one based on fear, but on mutual respect, affection, and complete trust in one another._

 

When Caine put the tablet down he stared blankly at the wall for almost a minute, then said:

“His name was Olivian Belantine.”

Jupiter, curled at the other end of the bunk and pretending to read about the procedure for filing a Bodily Harm and Grievances Claim against another Entitled, lowered her own tablet and gave him a carefully neutral look.

Caine didn’t say anything else for another minute; he continued staring at the wall with an expression on his face like his mind was elsewhere, poking around in dusty corners, trying to make sense of the information it had just acquired.

“No one knows what happened to him,” he said after a while.

Jupiter frowned, unsure what to make of this, then hastily unclenched her brows when Caine turned to look at her.

“Stinger’s plea deal,” he whispered. “The one where he—he got…”

“He said he took the fall for you,” Jupiter said, softly. “Got you both a court martial so they wouldn’t put you down.”

Caine swallowed.

“It only worked because Belantine had disappeared by then and thus forfeited his claim to prosecute,” he said. He sounded numb.

Jupiter could only imagine. It was one thing to know your commanding officer-friend-mentor-whatever-Stinger-was had thrown away their life to save yours, but to know you only got _that_ break because of a stroke of luck…

“What happened?” Jupiter asked.

It was an impossible question to answer, she realized as soon as she had voiced it. But Caine seemed to take it in stride. He even smiled a little: bitter, rueful.

“It says I encountered him while on patrol. We were a troop ship, but sometimes we carried Entitled—especially the lower-ranked ones. Belantine was the founder of his house. He owned shares, but no planets. I guess… I guess I was surprised to see him there.”

Jupiter set her tablet aside and pulled her knees up into her chest, wrapping her arms around them and watching Caine thoughtfully. He didn’t seem particularly upset, or angry, or relieved. He was just so… _still._ Jupiter had to imagine he felt _something—_ just couldn’t bring himself to show it. She was suddenly possessed of the desire to stroke his hair, rub some warmth into the tips of his ears, the way he liked. They always got so cold…

“If his assistant hadn’t had medical training, he probably would have died on the spot,” Caine said, jarring her thoughts. “As it was, the only reason I didn’t kill them both was because she happened to have a memnixer.”

“Memnixer?” Jupiter repeated, momentarily disoriented.

“Short term memory wipe,” Caine said. “For emergency use on tersies worlds. Similar to what the keepers use. She overcharged it and got me a blast at point-blank range. Knocked me and my memories of the event clean out.” Caine sighed heavily through his nose, his shoulders slumped.

“After that it’s all procedure. Summary hearing and sentence. Stinger appealed. Denied. Appealed again. They brought in my splicer to testify. I remember that part.” Caine swallowed again, and the contortion of pain and fear and betrayal that passed over his face in that moment made Jupiter want to find Caine’s splicer and… and _lock them in a room with Fillien Estarte._ Then it was gone and Caine went on talking.

“Somewhere in the middle of it all, Belantine disappeared. The last record they have of him, he was being transferred to a hospital on Heliotrope. But there was never a confirmation that he arrived, and there’s no death certificate.”

When he didn’t say anything else after several minutes, Jupiter took a steadying breath and said, “That’s… weird.”

Caine looked down at the tablet and shrugged. Then he frowned, and a subtle change came over his posture; everything tightened up and his eyes seemed to brighten, as though he’d caught the scent of some distant prey, and was thinking of pursuit.

“What is it?” Jupiter asked.

“Heliotrope,” said Caine.

“Yeah?”

“Is in the same system as Cerise.”

Jupiter blinked, wondering if this was something to do with colors. Then she remembered.

Cerise was Kalique Abrasax’s home.

“You don’t think…?” she began, unable to give voice to the vague suspicions which were curdling in her head. 

“I don’t,” said Caine. “I’m just… pointing it out. Also… also…” He clenched his jaw, pulling his brows together so hard his eyes screwed up. “I know I can’t trust my memory from immediately before the event, but I _do_ remember I smelled… I smelled _something_ wrong. They said… they _said_ it was a defect. A mistake. They always encoded the scent of any Entitled we were transporting so I’d know them—know to protect them. And that I—it failed, with me, and I thought Belantine was an intruder, and attacked him. But this file… look at what Tsing attached.”

Jupiter found the tablet pressed roughly into her legs. She took it, and carefully enlarged the little window of text attached to the main documents.

_Thought this might be relevant to your interests. It was suspiciously hard to find._

It was the passenger manifest of the Legion Frigate _Altairscythe_ for the fateful journal of Caine’s attack. Jupiter felt her eyes begin to cross as she scanned the list of unfamiliar names.

“What am I looking for?” she asked.

“Olivian Belantine’s name,” said Caine, his voice hollow. “But you won’t find it. I already looked. He’s not on it.”

Jupiter blinked, wondering if that meant what she thought it did.

“If he wasn’t listed,” Caine said, answering her unspoken question, “I wasn’t given his scent. I didn’t _know_ he was a passenger.”

“But…” said Jupiter, holding the tablet awkwardly in both hands. “But that’s good, right? It means you’re not defective after all!”

_And it means I’ll have to find some other way to stop myself becoming like the other Entitled, but hey go figure._

Caine scrunched his nose up in a way which would have been adorable if it hadn’t been so heart-wrenching. He looked, in a way, more lost than he had before.

“But I don’t remember smelling an intruder,” he whispered. “I smelled something… _wrong._ But I can’t remember what it was.”

Jupiter looked down at the tablet again, puzzling over it. What she’d hope would give Caine some closure seemed only to have opened up a new mystery.

What was Olivian Belantine doing on Caine’s old ship? And what had happened to him?

Once again, there was someone Jupiter could simply _ask,_ but unlike Chicanery Night, she couldn’t summon them with the press of a button—and she had even less faith in the truthfulness of their answer. Still… it was worth a try. And Fillien had been right about one thing: Jupiter had done her best to forget about the surviving Abrasax heirs, but that wouldn’t do in the long run. Sooner or later she’d have to deal with Titus and Kalique, and between the two of them she knew which one she’d rather talk to.

There was also the outstanding matter of what to do with Fillien himself. And the fact that she had probably been missed at home by now. Oh, what was her life? Heir to a space industry she hated, dating an angel-wolf-boy thing, and there was the Goldman house to do tomorrow. Unless it was already tomorrow.

She really needed to get home.

“You keep this,” she told Caine, giving him the tablet back and getting slowly to her feet.

“Where are you going?” Caine asked, but he took the tablet.

“Home,” said Jupiter, grimly. 

“Understood,” said Caine. “What shall we do with Fillien in the meantime?”

_Fucking Fillien,_ Jupiter thought, but paused to consider.

“You said he’s in custody?” she asked.

Caine nodded. “We have him and his personal assets in the brig.”

“Do you think he’s comfortable?”

“No,” said Caine, with iron certainty.

Jupiter nodded.

“Great, then he can wait there. I’m sick of thinking about him, and I’ve got other things to worry about.”

Caine looked flabbergasted. “Like what?”

“Like finding out what happened to Olivian Belantine,” said Jupiter, and wobbled off to find some proper clothes.

*

It _was_ tomorrow by the time she got back to Earth, and she’d missed the Goldman house.

“What is this nonsense, _hah_?” was the greeting Cousin Vassily had for her. “I know you have new boyfriend and he is probably better company than all of us, but your mother and aunt depend on you, Jupiter. If you ask nicely maybe Zeno can drop you off in Uptown and you can meet them at the Lakeside place…”

“I’ll take the bus,” said Jupiter.

She took her gravity boots, of course, which meant she had two whole hours to kill in Uptown Chicago, which was much less interesting than Downtown Chicago, but after only a few minutes of aimless wandering she found herself on Clark Street, and a few minutes later found herself pausing outside a plain brick building with a friendly picture of a rumpled bed in the window.

And if she went inside, and if while inside she spent the kind of money that would have made Vassily tsk about buying unnecessary things, and _on_ things that, less than a year ago, would have made her go bright red from embarrassment, well that was her own business. That and the business of the extremely helpful staff of the boutique, who were marvelously understanding and kindly packed away her newly acquired merchandise in a discreet cardboard box so that they could be shipped to Caine’s apartment.

The result was she was nearly late for the Lakeside job, and arrived red in the face with her hair blown out of its ponytail.

“Better late than never, _da,_ Jupiter?” said her mother, dryly, and shoved the bathroom kit at her.

Jupiter took her charge with an airy grin. She was still feeling a little light-headed from her purchase—some of the items were flat-out wishful thinking, but others she was relatively certain would be put to good use in the immediate future—and spinning fantasies about what she would do with them kept her mind occupied for the first two of the four rooms she was tasked with.

After that, she found her thoughts wandering down less pleasurable avenues. The trouble with Fillien weighed on her, as did the mystery of Olivian Belantine. The thought of talking to Kalique about it hung heavy and oppressive in her mind, and squashed out the flush of anticipation she had recently enjoyed. It was similar to the feeling of having to make a doctor’s appointment, and Jupiter knew from experience that the only way to really get rid of that feeling was to go and make the damn appointment already. So while she did her last two rooms she turned over all the possible angles she could take, until she felt like her brain was tying itself in knots.

“You’re not fighting with this one already, are you?” Aleska asked her as they left, seeing her frown.

Jupiter dragged her mind away from royal space intrigue and blinked at her mother.

“What?” she said. “Uh… no, no fighting. We’re sort of… the opposite of fighting?”

“Only you’re all frowns today,” Aleska said.

“I was thinking about something else,” said Jupiter, and immediately cast about for a believable excuse she could feed her mother.

Nino came to her rescue, albeit unknowingly.

“Have you asked him his sign yet?”

“Actually… no?” said Jupiter. “We’ve sort of had… other things to talk about.”

“Oh, I bet you have,” said Aleska, throwing her carry tote into the back of the car. “Like how your family is crazy and unfriendly and how he should not meet them, I expect.”

“ _Mom,_ ” said Jupiter, rolling her eyes.

“I only think that I should meet this man who you’re spending so much time with,” Aleska said, in the tone of one starting in on an old, comfortable argument.

_Gods not this again,_ Jupiter thought to herself.

“Yes, you must bring him to dinner,” said Nino, getting in the front passenger seat. “That way I can ask him his sign _myself._ ”

*

“So I have good news and bad news,” said Jupiter, when she arrived at Caine’s apartment the next day.

Caine straightened up from where he had been curiously sniffing at the newly-delivered box and regarded her soberly.

“I think you might have to meet my family pretty soon, my mom is getting insistent.”

Caine blinked and frowned, then raised a pale eyebrow at her.

“Is that the bad news?” he asked.

Jupiter nodded, crossed the room and picked up the box. She grinned at him, brightly. “The good news is, I got you a present.”

“A… present?” Caine repeated, as if he wasn’t sure what that meant.

Jupiter felt her smile falter a little. It wasn’t that she didn’t think he would _like_ what she’d got—well except for the one or two things but she planned on setting aside before letting him unpack the box—it was just… the way he said it made her wonder what sort of “presents” he’d been given in the past. Or if he’d ever been given one. But she swallowed down her doubts and went on.

“Yes,” she said. “Present _s,_ actually. But for later. First, I need to make a call.”

Caine’s eyes narrowed, and he looked aside. “I would not presume to ask—” he began.

“I’m gonna call Kalique and see if she knows anything about an Entitled who disappeared in _her_ home system,” Jupiter said, firmly.

Caine did not so much start at her words, but perked up all over—she saw his ears twitch.

“Majesty,” he said, soft and rough at the same time. “You don’t have to.”

“Maybe I don’t,” said Jupiter, shrugging. “But I want to.”

When Caine still looked uncertain she closed the distance between them and, by getting up on her tip-toes, managed to plant a kiss on his jaw.

She thought about saying something. Maybe telling him that he deserved this—closure, satisfaction, knowledge, whatever—or that she was herself intrigued with his past. Instead she just patted him reassuringly on one massive arm, and then scurried away into the bathroom to open the box of toys and stash the ones she wasn’t ready for him to see, yet.

*

She’d never actually used the FTL radio before, though she’d seen Caine do it many times. Sitting in the chair, surrounded by cameras and screens, was a little disconcerting. More disconcerting was the thought that she would be speaking to someone who was so far away the light from the star their planet was orbiting took twenty-five _thousand_ years to reach Earth. She tried not to think about it as the hail went out to Cerise.

The line was answered by a man with brown hair styled into two curling horns with a neat, pointed beard, who put her in mind of an owl. One of Kalique’s servants, but Jupiter was beat if she could remember his name.

His eyes went wide momentarily when he saw her, then an impassive wall of an expression dropped into place and he answered with robotic politeness:

“Lady Jupiter, it is an honor to hear from you. What is the occasion for your call?”

“Hi,” said Jupiter, feeling more awkward by the second. “Yeah… I guess I… uh… wanted to talk to Kalique? If she’s available?”

_Would_ Kalique be available? Was she calling in the middle of the night? What if the woman was in the bath or something? 

_No, no, do not think about Kalique and bathes,_ Jupiter reminded herself. 

“My mistress is not disposed to take calls at the moment,” said the owl-man. “However, I shall inform her immediately of your communication, and she will return it at her earliest convenience.”

“Okay,” said Jupiter, feeling strangely relieved. “Thanks.”

The owl-man’s face gave a sort of twitch, the wall momentarily crumbling.

“Peace to you, Lady Jupiter,” he said, and the line cut out.

“Well,” said Jupiter, turning to Caine who was looming behind the cameras. “I suppose that’s a start—”

A light started to blink and a moment later the whole console gave a loud _ding_. Jupiter barely had time to curse in confusion before Caine reached forward and flipped a switch near the largest screen, which immediately lit up with a vision of Kalique’s porcelain-skinned face framed in luscious, dark curls. She was perhaps a little pinker around the cheeks, but otherwise appeared identical to the last time Jupiter had seen her.

“My dear Jupiter,” she said, her voice coming out soft and breathy but perfectly clear. “What a delightful surprise this is. Please excuse Maledictus, I’m afraid you caught him off guard.”

“That’s… fine,” said Jupiter, trying to collect her carefully planned thoughts—which had scattered like mice in front of a cat as soon as Kalique’s face had appeared.

“I’ve been so worried,” Kalique was saying. “Ever since I heard about the disaster with the refinery. I am only relieved we did not lose both Balem _and_ you.”

_Yeah, about that,_ Jupiter thought, and then pushed it out of her head. That was not the reason she had called, and as she remembered that Kalique was several thousand light-years away, and _she_ was safe in Chicago and Caine was _right there_ and really there was nothing to be frightened of, she felt her composure returning, and with it, the carefully planned words she had intended to say.

“Kalique,” she said, cutting into a rambling inquiry about the state of her health.

Kalique stopped talking abruptly and gave her an innocent, curious look. Jupiter squared her shoulders and looked directly at the camera in front of her.

“The last time I saw you, you said you wanted us to be friends,” she said.

“And I still do,” Kalique said, her eyes widening.

In response, Jupiter narrowed hers. “Here’s the thing,” she said. “I don’t trust you. And it’s very hard to be friends with someone you don’t trust.”

“But I—” Kalique began, but Jupiter cut her off again. She was shit at being polite, she knew, so why even try?

“You didn’t lie to me, exactly. But you didn’t tell me the truth. I’m giving you another chance now.”

Kalique said nothing at this, but regarded Jupiter was a pointed interest that seemed altogether more honest that her breezy reception. It gave Jupiter the courage to go on.

“I’m trying to find out what happened to Olivian Belantine. He’s an Entitled who was last seen on his way a hospital on Heliotrope. I was wondering if you knew anything about that.”

Kalique looked thoughtful. She frowned and got the inward look of someone searching their memory for some obscure fact. At last she said, “I’m afraid I can’t remember anyone of that name off the top of my head. But I can have Maledictes look over the records.”

“Thank you,” said Jupiter, because she wasn’t a complete jerk. “I appreciate that.”

“My pleasure,” said Kalique, with an earnestness that was almost believable. “Anything, if it will aid you. Peace be with you, friend Mother.”

“Yeah,” said Jupiter, awkwardly. “Uh… you too.”

Kalique cut the connection and Jupiter pushed herself back from the consol to find her heart was hammering. She felt flushed, frazzled, and full of nervous energy. She also felt relief—there was nothing to do but wait now—and her mind gladly moved on to other, happier diversions.

Caine was standing in the doorway looking uncomfortable, and that would not do.

“I think you should open your presents, now,” she said, getting to her feet.

Caine raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Right now?” he asked.

“You bet right now,” said Jupiter, swinging herself out of the console and brushing past him into the living room. She’d left the box on the migratory sofa (they still hadn’t found a good spot for it), and now she picked it up and shook it, enticingly, as Caine followed her out of the closet-turned-communication hub.

He looked dubiously at the plain, brown cardboard box, but came over and lifted it out of her hands.

“And what have I done to deserve such a gift?” he asked, but Jupiter caught the twinkle of amusement in his eye, and she felt a warm flush spread from her belly up to her throat.

_He knows,_ she thought. _Maybe he’s got some x-ray vision I don’t know about, but he knows!_

Caine sat carefully beside her on the sofa and opened the box. She watched his expression closely as he pulled the first item out of the crumpled tissue paper.

Puzzlement seemed to be the main one, as he turned the roll of shiny black tape over in his hands. Finding the end, he unrolled a few inches, and frowned when he discovered there was no adhesive on the inner side.

“What is this for?” he asked, sounding honestly baffled.

Jupiter felt her face heating up. Had she been the perfect dom, she thought, she would have done something clever, like say “Well let me _show_ you…” and then bound his hands together or something. Then again, that approach might not work with Caine. She’d been fortunate, thus far, to have avoided any of his landmines—but she knew they had to be there. Every one had them—even her.

So she stomped down on her embarrassment—because really, what was there to be embarrassed about?—and explained. “It’s bondage tape. It… uh… only sticks to itself.”

“Oh,” said Caine, continuing to frown. Jupiter was on the verge of worrying, when he abruptly pulled out a long piece and experimentally wrapped it around his own wrist, observing how the thick, shiny tape clung to itself. “I see,” he said, and looked over at Jupiter with endearing concern. “You do realize this is nowhere near strong enough to actually restrain me?”

Jupiter couldn’t help grinning. “That’s half the fun,” she said. “It only works if you _want_ to be tied up.”

Caine’s eyes did not so much widen as intensify, and his nostrils flared momentarily. Then he turned back to the box and fished out the next item.

Which turned out to be the riding crop. Caine looked it over with the same careful confusion as he had the bondage tape, feeling the leather tip and smelling the shaft.

“I do know what this is,” he said eventually. “I’m just… not sure… what do you expect me to do with it?” He sounded apprehensive, and the sweetness of it made Jupiter’s heart melt a little.

“You can give it to me,” she said. “When you’re ready for me to use it on you.”

The confused look dropped off Caine’s face in an instant. He stared at the crop blankly for a moment, and then a little of the detached mistiness crept into his eyes.

Without hesitation he reached over and presented the crop to Jupiter, handle first.

“Really?” she asked.

Without breaking eye contact, Caine nodded.

Jupiter took the crop from him, feeling a thrill of excitement at the feel of it in her hand.

But she was getting ahead of herself. Caine was digging in the box, and had just come up with… the ball gag?

_Shit._

She must have missed when editing the box’s contents. _Oh damn._

“That’s actually… uh…” she began.

Caine raised the little rubber ball to his face, smelled it, and then _licked_ it.

Jupiter felt her brain momentarily shut off. When it came back on again Caine was frowning and wrinkling his nose.

“I’m not sure I like the taste,” he said.

“Oh, we don’t have to use it, then,” Jupiter said, a little too quickly.

Caine gave her a look that was not in any way misty. In fact, it was a little too sharp and present for her liking. She felt naked, and not in the sexy, fun way of _actually being naked_ around Caine. Rather, she felt like he was looking right through her, and all her most shameful desires were laid out there for him to see.

“Do I also give this to you, when I’m ready for you to use it on me?” he asked, softly.

“That’s pretty much the idea with all of this,” she said, a little choked.

Caine looked from her to the gag, and back again. Then he set it down beside him on the couch—safely out of her reach.

“Maybe later,” he said, and, finding the box almost empty, up-ended it so the contents tumbled onto the floor.

He stared at the final item in utter shock, his body gone completely still and his wings clamped down hard against his back. But Jupiter had learned to read him well enough over the last few months that she could tell: it wasn’t horror that held him so still, it was amazement.

Moving slowly, as if sudden movements might cause this reality to shatter, he bent down and picked up the plain, brown leather collar that lay in the middle of the pile of tissues. He swallowed visibly when it was followed by the attached leash, and he had to hold it in both hands, cradled in his lap, for what felt like minutes, stroking the material with his thumbs.

After a while he gave her a sideways look.

“Do you know what this means? To me?” he asked, a hint of a challenge in his voice.

“Not exactly,” said Jupiter, simply. “Just that it means a lot.”

Caine smiled ruefully.

“In the Legion, generals would give collars to members of their elite units. The collar covered their maker’s brand. It meant they belonged to someone else now, that they belonged to a unit, a… a…”

“A pack,” Jupiter finished for him.

“I never cared about that,” Caine said, roughly. But the response was hollow; automatic.

“Yes, you did,” said Jupiter, crawling off the couch so she could kneel in front of him. It put her in the middle of the paper and wrappings; they crunched loudly under her. She put her hands over his—it took both of hers to cover one, they were so big—so that they were holding the collar together.

“Do you know what this means, to me?” she asked.

Caine looked down at her, his eyes very blue from this close distance, and a little too bright.

“No,” he said, sounding uncertain and happy at the same time.

Jupiter smiled.

“It means you belong to me, Caine Wise,” she said, and the words tasted like soft fire on her tongue. It was thrilling, terrifying to say them, but they came out so easy; she had been born to say those words.

Meanwhile, Caine shuddered and closed his eyes, letting out a sigh that wafted warm air over her face. When he opened them again they were filled was such tentative hope she couldn’t help grabbing his shoulders and pulling herself up to kiss him.

“It also means,” she whispered into his mouth, between kisses, “that I belong to you.” Another kiss. “I’ll take care of you.” Kiss. “I’ll lead you.” She was moving on now, kissing the edge of his jaw, his cheek, the corner of his eye. Moving her mouth slowly over his face as the words queued up inside her and came neatly marching out. “It means you can follow me, anywhere. It means you always have a right to my attention, above and beyond anyone else. It means _I’ll_ protect _you._ ” She pulled away slightly. Cupping his head between her hands, so he couldn’t look away—not that’s he’d try; he felt like a big, warm, willing mass in her hands, ready to harden or melt at her command—she met his gaze directly and said, with the smallest shake of her head, “It _doesn’t_ mean I own you.”

Caine blinked, a wrinkle forming between his brows. “How does that—” he began.

“I can own a toothbrush,” Jupiter said. “Maybe, by some fucked up laws, I can own a planet. But I can’t own you. Not really. You’re a person, not a toothbrush.”

Caine closed his eyes, and gave off such a strong impression of basking in the sun that Jupiter felt warm all over.

“If Your Majesty says so,” he murmured, but it was a weak protest. The last, automatic response from old training that was, even now, fading fast.

“I do say so,” said Jupiter, planting one last kiss to the middle of his forehead. “Now,” she said, tapping his mouth with a finger. “How do you want to do this?”

Caine’s head snapped up and his eyes opened. He looked at Jupiter, sprawled in his arms, and then quickly sized up their surroundings like he was doing a security sweep.

Then he was surging to his feet, lifting Jupiter along with him. He turned them around and lowered her back onto the couch, gentle and assured as a zero-g beam, before coming to kneel between her legs.

All that, and he hadn’t leg go of the collar for one second. He offered it to her now, with both hands,  and with a shaky breath raised his face to meet hers.

He looked so earnestly terrified and hopeful it gave Jupiter a physical pain somewhere under her collar bone, while at the same time lighting the fire which flushed her body with a hot, tingling sensation.

“ _Please,_ ” he whispered.

Jupiter thought about making him spell out exactly what he wanted, but at this point, she decided, that was probably unnecessary. 

She leaned forward and kissed his forehead, right where the worried wrinkle formed when he frowned, unbuckling the collar as she did so. The action caused him to shut his eyes again, and while they were still closed she slipped the leather around his neck and pulled the end through the buckle. Sliding a finger between the collar and his skin, to make sure it wasn’t too tight, she found the appropriate hole and snapped it shut, settling it around his neck so the D-ring that attached to the leash was in front. A corner of his brand still peeked out from under the leather, but the collar covered most of it. Satisfied, Jupiter gave the leash a soft tug.

Caine sighed, rolling his head back so his neck muscles bunched, straining against the collar, and he cracked his eyes open. They seemed a little glazed, but they focused on her clearly, even though they remained half-shuttered, lashes fluttering as he drew in a deep breath, once again sensing the presence of the leather around his neck.

“You look good,” said Jupiter, her own voice coming out weak and breathy. “How’s it feel?”

Caine looked lost for a moment. Then he gave a small smile and said, “It feels… good.”

His words were so deliberate Jupiter was sure there was more to it than that. She thought about pressing him for a better explanation, but decided against it. She knew what it was like to have trouble articulating one’s feelings.

Instead she wound the leash around her hand a couple of times, forcing him to lean in—which he did at the faintest pressure, bracing his arms on either side of her waist for balance.

“Now,” she breathed into his ear. “What am I going to do with you?”

Slowly Caine raised his head. Their noses almost touched their faces were so close together, and Jupiter found herself looking down into blue eyes that had gone downright smokey with lust. There was a pink flush across his cheeks and his nostrils were flared in anticipation.

Belatedly Jupiter realized she’d been growing gradually more aroused ever since Caine had put the riding crop into her hand. He’d been smelling her the whole time, which meant _he_ was probably pretty far gone as well by now.

“Anything,” he whispered, reaching down to press a kiss into her shoulder. “Anything Your Majesty wishes…”

“That’s a pretty— _oh_ —a pretty generous offer,” Jupiter said, her voice catching as she felt the slide of his tongue against her skin.

Caine hummed into her neck in agreement, pushing the collar of her shirt down so he could move his mouth lower.

“Though… if I may… make a suggestion?” he asked humbly, between wet, sloppy kisses.

“Uh, yeah. Shoot,” said Jupiter, who was having a little trouble ordering her thoughts at the moment. Everything had gone warm and wet and _Caine_ —he was pressed in so close, his wings half unfolded and rising above him, and every time they shuddered she caught another breath of _him._ That  murky, earthy, sharp smell that matched the way he tasted. It was quickly becoming Jupiter’s favorite scent, even if it did make her go a bit light-headed.

Caine was fumbling on the couch next to them, and a moment later she felt a long, thin, familiar object pressed into her hand.

The crop, which had been dropped somewhere in the process of putting the collar on him.

“ _Oo-oh,_ ” said Jupiter, lifting it lazily so she could brush the tip across Caine’s ear and down his neck, stroking the exposed underside of his right wing.

Caine shivered and groaned, which, considering his face was currently buried in her chest, made interesting things happen in her tummy.

“But you’ve been so _good_ though,” she said. “I don’t think I have a reason to _use_ this.”

She felt Caine smile against her chest, his head rocking sideways.

“Do you need a reason?” he asked.

“Mm, I think I do,” said Jupiter, thoughtfully, tapping the end of the crop lightly against his side. She was getting an idea, which, like most of her ideas, was a bad one. Or an extremely good one, depending on how Caine reacted.

Caine had gone dangerously still against her, although he was clutching tightly at her hips.

“I don’t know,” he said, his voice muffled against the fabric of her shirt. “I don’t know what to do.”

“S’okay,” said Jupiter, threading her hand through the loop at the end of the leash so she could stroke his hair. Just as she felt him begin to press into her hand she grabbed a handful and tugged, sharply. “I do.” 

Her reward was a shudder that passed through his entire body and reverberated deliciously against her own. Not ready to relinquish that feeling, she moved her hand to rub some warmth into the tip of his ear, which made him give out a long, low groan. She finished with a sharp pinch that earned her another delicious shiver, and then regretfully pried his head off her chest.

“For starters,” she said, cradling his face in her hands. “I think your should take your clothes off.”

Caine blinked at her, hazily.

“Do you need my help with that?” Jupiter asked.

His eyes sharped, coming back from whatever place he’d been a moment before. He gave her one of his small, private smiles. 

“I think I can handle that, Your Majesty,” he said.

“Good,” said Jupiter, sitting up and wriggling out from between him and the sofa. “You get on that.” She unclipped the leash from the collar, and gave him a playful smack with the crop as she made for the bathroom.

By the time she returned with a couple emergency barriers and her trusty magic wand, Caine had got his shirt off and was working on his second boot.

Jupiter briskly kicked aside the detritus from the unpacking of the presents, set the gag and the bondage tape on the arm of the couch, along with the barriers and vibrator, and then went to help Caine pull his pants off.

Not that he needed help doing this, Jupiter was just that _nice._ Also, he would take forever peeling the under armor off, and she did not have the patience for that. She needed him pantsless, and she needed that _now._

Caine naked was something she still had trouble believing. He didn’t look like anything that should exist in her life—not just because of the wings and pointed ears, but because he had the sort of body that looked good enough to eat. The fact that she knew that body was able and willing to pick her up and carry her swooping through the sky just made it even more incredible. It made her want to plaster her face to it and make sure he really was real. With her tongue.

She satisfied herself by stepping boldly into his space, clipping the leash to his collar, and groping his chest shamelessly.

“ _Majesty,_ ” Caine wheezed as she licked a stripe up from his abdomen and over his chest, pausing to bite sharply at a small, pink nipple.

What was she doing? Oh yes, she still had clothes on. Well, that was easily remedied.

“Now you do me,” she said, grinning up at him.

Caine’s hands on her were possibly her favorite thing. They were so big and strong and there were callouses on his palms and thumbs, but he was so gentle—so _careful—_ he might as well have been wearing kid gloves.

Ordinarily Jupiter loved to bask in the attentiveness and deliberation he took when it came to guiding her shirt up and over her head, gently unclasping her bra and running his fingers inside the waistline of her pants before unbuttoning them. Tonight, however, she had something different in mind.

“Do it faster,” she murmured against his neck when he bent to kiss her shoulder after sliding her shirt off her arms.

She felt his hands falter on her, and he pulled his head back in confusion.

“But—” he began.

She laid a sound slap across his bare flank with the riding crop, eliciting a sharp gasp.

“Giddyup,” she said, stifling a giggle.

Caine pulled back further and regarded her seriously.

“I am _not_ a horse,” he said, with the long-suffering air of someone explaining the obvious.

“Right, sorry,” said Jupiter.

Caine gave her one of his secretive, fleeting smiles, and shook his head. “No apology necessary.”

_What was the thing you said to dogs?_

“Mush?” Jupiter suggested.

This time Caine actually snorted with laughter. He hung his head to hide it, but Jupiter could see his shoulders heaving. Then he raised his head, and there was a challenging glint in his eyes.

“Make me,” he said.

His hands were big and warm and gentle (and motionless) against her sides.

It was a little difficult—Jupiter didn’t want to hit his wings—but by angling the crop just so and using a _flicking_ motion with her wrist, she managed to land a sharp slap square on his ass.

Caine grunted and shut his eyes, as though relishing the feeling.

Which was incredibly hot, but not the desired response.

“Caine, if my pants are still on at the count of five so help me I’ll tape you the kitchen table and go read a book or something. One, _two…_ ”

She felt all the breath go out of her in a _whoof_ as Caine surged forward, grabbing her around the midsection and throwing her over one shoulder. She got a face full of feathers this way, but managed to keep a hold of both the crop and the leash—for which she was inordinately proud.

“Three…” she gasped.

Caine’s blunt nails scraped deliciously against her skin as he dragged her jeans and panties down in one go.

“Four,” she said, and used her newfound position to deliver another smack against his ass—which was sporting a bright red triangle from where she’d hit him previously.

The next thing she knew she was being up-ended onto the couch, sprawling onto her back and dragging on the leash for balance. Caine was kneeling between her legs, pulling her shoes off along with her pants, bending down to mouth at her belly, dragging his tongue across the sensitive expanse of skin and down, practically whining in anticipation.

“Uh-uh,” said Jupiter, even as she felt an answering tingle sweep through her. She tapped the side of his face with the crop, and jerked on the collar. “You forgot my bra. One…”

Caine surged up her body, pulling her forward almost roughly, hands jerking as he unsnapped the bra and pulled it off. It got a little tangled up in the leash and the crop, but Jupiter got the wretched thing flung across the room by the count of three, so that was all right.

“ _Good_ boy,” she breathed, digging her fingers into his scalp so she could guide his head to her chest.

Caine went with no hesitation, licking and sucking at her breasts almost at random.

Almost. Jupiter had to gasp as she felt his mouth close over a nipple, sucking ever so gently—not even a hint of teeth. He kissed her there, tenderly, and only released her so he could inhale deeply, his nose practically in her armpit.

“You smell”—he kissed the side of her breast—“ _so_ good…”

“I… do?” said Jupiter, who had been feeling momentarily embarrassed since she couldn’t remember if she’d put on deodorant that morning.

“ _Yes,_ ” Caine breathed, working his way down again, one hand coming to rest on her inner thigh, as if begging entry.

“What do I smell like?” Jupiter asked. She hadn’t dared even wonder before, what with his practically-magical sense of smell.

Caine had paused on his progression down her body, breathing hotly into her navel. He seemed to be gathering himself.

Jupiter was on the verge of telling him to forget about it, when he raised his face to hers and said, in a choked whisper, “ _Home._ ”

And _that_ she had not been expecting. It was a good thing she was already lying back against the couch because the force of the admission, along with his yearning stare, was enough to floor her. As it was she had to swallow several times before she found her voice, and when she did, all she could manage was a lame, “O-oh…”

But Caine was smiling now. Really smiling. It was a new look for him, and combined with the collar standing out starkly against his flushed skin, entirely overwhelming. Then he leaned forward and kissed her belly, the hand not currently between her legs sliding up over her hip and around to support her back, effectively pressing her into his face.

And Jupiter nearly went to pieces right there. She hadn’t intended things to go this way, but his want was so clear she didn’t have it in herself to deny him. Not this, anyway.

“Then go home, Caine,” she said, and when he only looked up in confusion she fisted a hand in his hair and pushed his head downwards.

She could practically see the light bulb go off in his mind, and he fairly dove between her legs, _whining_ in his eagerness, to plaster his mouth over her vulva and _suck_ …

“Oh my holy _fuck_ Caine!” Jupiter threw her head back and took a few gulping breaths. The sound of air rushing in and out of her lungs was not loud enough to drown out the blissful moans and obscene slurping sounds coming from between her legs. Really, the _sound_ of him was almost enough to get her off, let _alone_ the feelings…

She felt the tiniest prickle of beard and then his tongue was plunging inside her, curling forward and dragging out slowly, pressing hard against her as it moved up to curve around the head of her clit. Jupiter’s hand, still fisted in his hair, jerked roughly. He groaned in unashamed bliss, the faint vibrations from the noise making her tremble.

His wings had sort of fallen open in the process, and were now lying half-extended on either side of him. It left the center of his back open, and Jupiter took the opportunity to run the end of the crop up and down the pale strip of skin.

Between her legs, Caine shuddered, and if possible pressed himself even deeper into her, a throaty _keening_ sound escaping his lips.

It was too good. They were just going to stay on the couch and do this all night if Jupiter didn’t do something.

Almost reluctantly she grabbed a handful of Caine’s hair and pulled his head out of her lap.

He came, but reluctantly, and whispering, “Please, _please,_ Majesty. I’ll be good. I’ll be _good…_ just let me… _please…_ ”

Jupiter silenced him by pressing the crop to his lips and letting out a soft “ _Shhh…_ ”

“You _are_ good,” she told him. “You are _so_ good Caine, I think I’m dreaming half the time. But there’s something specific I want, tonight.”

Caine’s lips moved against the leather of the crop, and she lifted it just a fraction.

“Anything Your Majesty wishes,” he breathed. “Just tell me. _Please_ tell me,” he said, his hands clenching at her desperately

Jupiter tugged on the leash, pulling him up so she could hold his face and kiss it. Kiss his wet, shining mouth, taste herself in him, savor the heady combination of her own tangy flavor and his rich, earth-and-electric one.

“I want you inside me,” she whispered into his ear. “I want you to make me come on your cock.” The hand she had been using to stroke the back of his head turned into a claw and she yanked back on his hair so she could stare him in the eye as she said, “And then I want you to _fuck_ me as hard and as fast as you can.”

Caine’s gaze intensified, the faint mistiness deserting him, and he shut his mouth to swallow visibly.

“No begging,” Jupiter reminded him, touching his ribs with the crop. “Just orders. I mean, if you’re up for it,” she added, momentarily uncertain.

Caine closed his eyes and leaned back, settling on his knees in front of her and drawing his wings in. His hands, still warm but suddenly lax, rested on the tops of her thighs. One thumb began tracing faint circles against her skin, and he looked down at it thoughtfully.

“Anything Your Majesty wishes,” he repeated. He smiled ruefully, then stopped his light massage and looked up at her, uncertainly. “But could you…” he began, and stopped, struggling with the words.

“Yes, Caine?” Jupiter asked. Then, more firmly, she added: “Tell me what you need.”

Caine swallowed. “Could you… please…” He sighed, and looked away. “I need you to tighten my collar.”

Jupiter frowned at him, eyeing the collar in question. She’d put it as tight as she felt comfortable with, and combined with Caine’s expressed interest in choking she wasn’t sure she liked where this was headed.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Caine,” she said, softly.

Blue eyes, surprisingly calm and clear, met hers and held her fast.

“You won’t,” Caine said, and his confidence seemed to fill him out, spreading through his shoulders and into his wings, which unfurled slightly. “Look, really…” He raised his hands and roughly unbuckled the collar so he could yank the end though, pulling it so tight the leather bit into his flesh and raised an angry, red blush. He grimaced a little, but got the shaft through the second-tightest hole and held it there. Then he inhaled, deeply, and said in a voice which was only a little strained, “I doubt you’ll even be able to get it this tight. I’m not human, Jupiter,” he added, earnestly, “and I’ve had far worse things around my neck.” With a firm tug he disengaged the buckle, causing the collar to go lax.

“As tight as you can make it,” he said. “Please.”

It was Jupiter’s turn to swallow nervously. But when she went to put the collar back on him, she found that, no matter how hard she pulled, she couldn’t get it tighter than the third-to-last hole. Caine’s neck might have been a tree branch for all the give it had to it.

Then his eyes fell shut and he inhaled sharply, breathing out in a sigh like relief. When they opened, there was a new, almost predatory gleam in them. It only stoked the fire in Jupiter’s belly, however, and the heat practically sang through her veins as she pulled him toward the end of the couch where the necessary equipment awaited.

His cock was hard and red and dripping by the time she got the barrier on it, and he hissed in anticipation as she coaxed it over him, making sure the ends reached down to cover the veins of his knot. She gave it a couple more loving strokes, just because she loved the shape and feel of him under her hand, and lightly squeezed his balls.

“Majesty,” Caine growled, and that was all the warning she got before she was tipped backwards onto the couch and there was an armful of blond, winged, wolf-man crawling on top of her.

“ _Majesty,_ ” he repeated, kissing her shoulder, her breast, her belly. Both huge hands clamped over her chest as he pushed his head down between her legs and thrust into her with his tongue.

It was almost too much. Jupiter felt like something was going to pop if he kept that up—not to mention the great, warm weights bearing down on her, his callouses rough against the sensitive skin of her breasts.

“ _Ahh-_ ah, uh-uh,” she gasped, jerking roughly on the leash and tapping his ear with the crop. Putting her hand through the loop of leather at the handle, she reached up and grabbed the vibrator, which she wagged in front of his face.

“Plug it in,” she ordered.

Caine’s eyes took a little while to focus on the long, white object, and when they did he snarled a little bit. But he took the vibrator and slunk off the couch to plug it into the nearest outlet.

Which happened to be farther away than the cord could reach.

“So?” said Jupiter. “I bet you can fix that.”

Caine looked from the vibrator, to Jupiter lounging on the sofa, and then at the expanse of hardwood floor between them.

His solution was to push the couch (with Jupiter still on it) over to the outlet. She was giggling with delight by the time they arrived, and Caine wasn’t even breathing hard.

Unless he _couldn’t_ breath hard, thanks to the collar.

“Do you need a break?” Jupiter asked, indicating his neck.

Caine shook his head vigorously. He picked up the vibrator again and came to stand uncertainly in front of her.

There was something about the sight of a fully erect Caine Wise holding a vibrator that sent a happy flush throughout her insides, and she couldn’t resist leaning back with her hands behind her head and spreading her legs invitingly.

“Well?” she said. “What are you waiting for? Come on…”

Still Caine hesitated. He looked bashfully down at himself, and Jupiter sighed. She took up the crop again and tapped him lightly on the elbow.

“Give me your leash,” she said, holding her other hand out, palm up.

That jerked Caine into motion. He passed her the looped end of the lead, and she gripped it tight, pulling herself up into a sitting position even as she dragged him forward.

“You said you’d be good,” she reminded him, leaning forward to kiss the corner of his eye.

“Yes,” he breathed, his hands—his wonderful, big, warm hands—cradling her hips, shifting her ever so slightly so she was facing him square.

She rapped him sharply across the side, feeling the twitch run through his arms as his fingers momentarily dug into her.

“Then get inside me,” she whispered in his ear. “Do it _slowly,_ ” she added, feeling him tense against her.

Caine made a noise somewhere between a groan and a whimper as he dragged the head of his cock up the inside of her thigh and across her vulva. The warm weight of his hands left her hips as they moved between her legs to spread her, ever so gently, so that he could sink inside.

Slowly but steadily. Jupiter thought she would go mad. The sensation of him filling her up inch by precious inch lit a tangible yearning in her throat that crawled up into her mouth. It was so strong she could almost taste it—sour-sweet and murky—and it made her say the stupidest things.

“There you are, that’s it—that’s the trick,” she mumbled, barely conscious of what she was saying. “Slowly, easy… oh you are _such_ a good boy, Caine. You take such good care of me. You’ll take care of me now, won’t you?”

It was only the choked “ _Yes,_ ” that she got in reply that made her realize she’d been talking out loud. She had no time to be mortified, however, because the next second Caine was collapsing on top of her—resting his elbows on either side of her shoulders so she wasn’t entirely squashed into the sofa—bending his head so he could kiss her breast, his mouth hot and a little shaky against her skin.

All this, and he was still barely halfway inside her, and his hips were trembling from the effort of holding himself back. 

She stuck the leash between her teeth and, putting her other hand through the loop of the crop’s handle, she reached down and took two firm handfuls of Caine’s ass.

His only immediate response was to exhale heavily against her chest, and on his back his wings twitched.

Taking this as a good sign, Jupiter kneaded the flesh of his rear, dragging her nails from the crack all the way around his hips. Then, grasping him firmly, she pulled him slowly into her.

“Let me…” she mumbled, and he did. Oh, _how_ he did. He pushed forward when she pulled, and drew out when she pushed. Rocking his hips gently back and forth under her hands, she coaxed him inside by degrees, always pulling just a little more than she pushed, until she felt something give inside her, and then he was fulling seated at last—his balls a warm, soft presence against her taint.

There was wetness on her chest; at first she assumed it was a by product of the sloppy kisses he’d been laying there, but when he raised his head in ecstasy at the feeling of being fully consumed she saw the redness in his eyes and the shine on his cheeks. She wanted to kiss him, but she still had the leash in her mouth and both hands occupied on, and unwilling to leave, his magnificent ass. Instead she leaned her head forward until their brows touched, breathing in the smell of him and willing him to raise his gaze and look at her.

When he eventually did she caught a glimpse of sharply blue eyes and then he was closing the distance between them, his open mouth hovering over hers, breathing warmly on her cheeks, before carefully, slowly, almost uncertainly, lowering to kiss her around the leather clutched between her teeth. 

It was simultaneously the hottest and most frustrating thing, because she couldn’t kiss _back._ She settled for squeezing down on him, hard, and he lifted his face off hers with a surprised gasp.

“C’mon boy,” she said through clenched teeth and leather, and began to work her hands over his ass, pushing him out and then pulling him in again. Shallow, gentle strokes at first, then as he got on board with the program she pushed him harder, digging in her nails when she pulled, delighting in the sharp snap of his hips at her touch.

It was intoxicating, feeling him move so willingly under her hands. She wasn’t sure if this counted as him fucking her or her fucking him or her fucking herself _with_ him but whatever it was it was fucking amazing. Caine had his face buried in her shoulder, his mouth open and lax against her skin, hot and wet. He was making a continuous growling, whining noise, punctuated by faint yelps when she pulled particularly hard, and his wings had come partially open.

Then Jupiter pulled him in as far as he would go, and held him down against his automatic rock-back. She felt his hips shudder under her hands at the effort of holding still, and it hit her again how every aspect of her control was due to his choice; his desire to be held and pushed and guided. It was something he gave her, and made her feel even more powerful.

She undulated her body under him, feeling the head of his cock press deeply inside her, and felt an answering tremor run through her groin. She could almost come from this; him inside her and around her and so, so willing.

Almost.

Reluctantly she dragged a hand away from his ass and groped around until she found the hefty weight of the vibrator. Flicking it on she brought the head up and pressed it to the base of Caine’s wing.

Caine’s whole body went stiff and then liquid. He practically melted over her, his growling whine turning into a high, surprised keen.

“You gotta make me come if you want to keep fucking me,” Jupiter told him. She still had the leash in her mouth, but her meaning must have come across clearly enough, because Caine pushed himself up so that he could spare a hand to take the vibrator, his face bright red and shining.

Gingerly he brought the pulsing head to his mouth and kissed it, closing his eyes against the sensation, before pushing back further so he could lower it between them. He left the head resting a tantalizing inch from Jupiter’s clit, while he sucked roughly at the fingers of his other hand before bringing them down to gently open her outer labia.

“As you wish, Your Majesty,” he panted, just as his fingers found the sensitive nub and stroked, his thumb pressing insistently down. His breath was warm on her face, and an instant later Jupiter felt a tightness run up her spine and explode. Her hips bucked involuntarily and she felt one foot kick out as the convulsions passed through her in waves. They came on, one after another, causing her back to arch and she dropped the leash as a surprised yell was forced out of her.

She came down from that climax in stages to find she’d sprawled on the couch, her hands limp at her sides, and Caine gazing down at her with cautious respect.

“Do you still want—?” he asked, rolling the vibrator across her skin.

“Just _fuck_ me, Caine,” Jupiter moaned, bringing her legs up so she could squeeze his waist between her knees.

Caine was breathing heavily, and his eyes had gone dark from his blown out pupils, but still he hesitated.

“ _Caine,_ ” Jupiter said, warningly, and grabbed up the leash and the crop. Jerking roughly at the lead she pulled his face down so she could press a biting kiss against his open mouth, and with the crop laid two hard smacks across his ass.

His hips jerked, driving him a little deeper inside her, and finally— _finally_ —he began to thrust on his own. Still shallow at first, until he drew almost entirely out of her and hovered.

“God _damn_ it, Caine!” Jupiter shrieked, and hit him as hard as she could with the riding crop.

Caine plunged in her, causing the whole sofa to rock as Jupiter was slammed into it from the force of it. Then it was like a dam had broken inside him and he was thrusting wildly, mercilessly, and it was all Jupiter could do to hold on.

Only she didn’t have to. One of his hands gripped her ass, pulling her hips to meet his with every pounding thrust, while the other clamped over her shoulder so that he could move her whole body against his.

It was like going over a waterfall all over again; a plunging, pounding drop, and Jupiter could hear herself moaning raggedly. He was moving so fast now she could barely register the individual thrusts: it was just a constant friction of _Caine_ sliding in and out, dragging against her sweet spot over and over and over again, with sharp stabs of pleasure when he bottomed out inside her.

She felt a wind on her face and looked up to find he’d spread his wings and was actually beating them to help drive himself. The mess of tissues on the floor was kicked up and whipped away, the swiftly stirring air stinging coolly against her wet skin.

She felt her legs fall apart, and she was melting under his hands, her head tipped back to bare her throat. A hot mouth closed on the side of her neck, opposite the hand that held her shoulder, and for the first time there was a hint of teeth.

More than a hint, she realized, as the powerful jaws tightened on the muscles under her skin and she felt the prick of his long canines. Not in a bite, exactly. More like Caine needed a third anchor by which to hold her as he came, jerking and ragged, and then slumped against her, his breath roaring in her ears and his sides heaving, even as his wings collapsed on either side, completely blanketing the couch.

Jupiter could feel him swelling inside her, stretching her almost painfully until she forced herself completely flush against him and she felt the knot slip sweetly inside. Sighing in contentment she wrapped her legs around his waist, and finally let go of the leash and crop so she could stroke his hair.

Her skin was tingling and she felt as though she balanced on the edge of wanting to come again, and wanting to slip back into warm, sated bliss. Eventually the latter won out, and she spared a hand from Caine’s head to switch off the (ultimately superfluous) vibrator.

In the comparative quiet that descended she could hear Caine’s breathing as it gradually slowed. He was still clutching at her with both hands and his mouth, the air rushing in and out of his nose blowing coolly on her neck, but after a minute or so he carefully detached his jaw and began to lick at the skin there, as if he could wash away the growing bruise. 

Jupiter basked in the sensation. He was in her and all around her, his wings providing a makeshift blanket, and his tongue was doing marvelous things to the skin of her neck. She was going to have a monstrous hickey there the next day, and the thought made her so proud and satisfied she moaned in pleasure, closing her eyes.

The noise seemed to jerk Caine out of whatever headspace he’d been floating in, for she felt his mouth still against her, and then it was gone—leaving a cold, wet patch in its wake.

“Majesty,” he said, hoarsely. “I’m sorry—I didn’t intend… _I’m so sorry._ ”

Jupiter pried her eyes open to find him gazing down at her, a mortified expression on his face and oh, that would _not_ do. She reached around and cupped his jaw, her thumb brushing over his lips.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “I did ask. And I liked it.”

Caine exhaled like he’d been punched in the stomach and dropped his head.

“You’re okay?” he asked, hesitantly

Jupiter nodded, rather drunkenly. “I am _very_ okay. You?”

Slowly, Caine raised his head. He blinked several times, and then smiled, very slightly. It made Jupiter feel warm in an entirely different way, but one that was equally as good.

“Yes,” he said, sounding surprised at himself.

“That’s good,” mumbled Jupiter, reaching back to rub his ears. Caine sighed and rested his head against her chest. “Did you like it?” she asked after a moment.

Caine’s response was a rumbling laugh that she felt along every inch of her body, as well as deep inside. Caine still had her effectively held against him as he half-kneeled against the couch, partially supported by his wings. The position must have been uncomfortable, but he showed no desire to move. Jupiter was grateful; feeling so stuffed and sensitive, she didn’t think she could handle moving.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she said, giggling a little herself.

Caine leaned up and placed a kiss on her throat, so faint and gentle it was hardly more than a brush of lips. But she heard him well enough when he whispered, “It was the _best,_ ” against her skin.

“Really?” said Jupiter, impressed and proud at the same time.

She felt him nodded against her.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he said, his breath warm on her neck.

Jupiter draped her arms over his shoulders so she could stroke the feathers of his wings. They were silky soft to the touch, but rigidly strong.

“So tell me,” she said, threading a finger under a feather, making Caine shudder and the entire wing twitch.

Slowly he raised his head to meet her gaze, and she was struck by the serenity she found there. It was the kind of relaxed contentedness she’d only seen on his features in sleep, but with the addition of two conscious, piercing blue eyes staring out at her the effect was overwhelming.

“I told you,” he said quietly. “About how… there’s a side of me that wants things. Things I don’t want to want.”

Jupiter nodded, slowly. She felt like she was treading close to the part of Caine he kept so securely hidden, and any sudden movement might cause it to take flight like a frightened animal.

Caine sighed and rested his chin on her chest, settling so the leash did not get in the way. “It’s like there’s a wild animal in here with me. In most splices the two are integrated, but something went wrong in my case. I don’t…” he grimaced. “I mean, it _is_ me, but it’s _not_ me. But I’m not fully _myself_ without it.”

“Yeah,” said Jupiter, softly, her fingers trailing down to massage the base of his wings, where feathers and metal met warm flesh. “I can imagine… something like that.”

Caine shook his head, but not as if to deny her. “I don’t… it comes out when I fight, sometimes. When I have to survive.” He swallowed. “It wants to come out when I’m with you,” he whispered. “But I haven’t let it, because I was afraid of what it—of what _I_ would do.”

“But you didn’t,” Jupiter said, pushing her hands under his wings and stroking the downey feathers near their base.

Caine shivered, rolling his head back so the collar stood out sharply against his skin. Then he brought his face down and whispered: “But I just did.”

Jupiter blinked, her mind sluggishly replaying the events of the immediate past. She frowned.

“You did?” she said, trying not to sound too cynical.

Caine gave her one of his small, secret smiles. He still looked entirely placid; it was really astounding, as though Jupiter were seeing his true face for the first time.

“My whole life I thought I was the only one who could control it,” he said. He dipped his head and kissed the spot on her neck where he’d clutched with his teeth. It was definitely going to be a magnificent bruise, but he hadn’t even broken the skin. “Turns out,” he breathed. “It also listens to you.”

“Me?” Jupiter squeaked.

“Mmm.” Caine’s breath was warm on her neck and the hand on her shoulder had moved around so he could cradle her head.

“Well, I guess that makes sense,” Jupiter said after a moment’s reflection. “I mean, if you really do like me ordering you around—you’re not just doing it to please me, I mean.”

Caine leaned back so he could regard her, a faint crease in his brow.

“I would not do anything if it displeased you,” he said, then his expression cleared. “But I do… it just feels right to me. So I guess, yes, I do like it.”

And that was just endearing and heart breaking at the same time, Jupiter thought. Some of her inner feelings must have shown through in her face, however, because Caine’s gaze sharpened and he went on, earnestly:

“You must understand, however it may appear to you or anyone else, when you give me orders, it feels like release. When you put this on me,” he nosed briefly at the leash attached to his collar, “it feels like freedom.”

“Oh,” said Jupiter in a small voice.

“I am not explaining this very well,” Caine sighed.

“No, I think I get the idea,” Jupiter said, thoughtfully. “I was just thinking… you said this other part of you… well, it’s still a _part_ of you, right? So of course it likes what you like.”

Caine got an inward look on his face, and frowned. “I never thought of it like that before.”

“I think,” Jupiter rambled on. “That there’s a lot of people who feel… maybe not the same, but similar, maybe? Like there are parts of them that aren’t wholly themselves. People who are perfectly ordinary, unaltered humans…” she trailed off, realized she was sailing into dangerous waters.

By the look on his face, Caine was considering her words in that frighteningly intelligent way he had. Time to change the subject.

“You uncomfortable at all?” she asked.

Caine grimaced apologetically. “Maybe a little,” he admitted.

“I think we can move—if we’re _very_ careful,” Jupiter suggested.

She needn’t have worried. Caine scooped her up like she weighed nothing, keeping one hand firmly planted under her rear, pressing her onto him so she wasn’t jostled at all. He settled back on the couch, their positions reversed so he could lean into the backrest and Jupiter could collapse into his lap.

“Are you cold?” he asked, no doubt feeling the goose bumps that had risen along her arms and shoulders.

Jupiter barely had time to nod before there was a whisper of feathers, and soft warmth encircled her as he folded his wings across her back.

Cocooned like that all she had to do was drape herself over him, pillowing her head on one massive shoulder. 

“Did I mention this really fucking works for me?” she mumbled sleepily. He was still hot and hard and huge inside her, but the feeling was becoming more and more comfortable. Like he belonged there.

She felt a ripple of laughter pass through him.

“Thanks,” she added. “For explaining, I mean. It helps… helps me understand.”

“Understand what?”

Jupiter found herself yawning. “How to make you feel good,” she said.

She felt Caine tilt his head toward her, his stubble brushing her cheek.

“I would,” he said, then broke off. “If you were to do the same, that is. Before, you said…”

Jupiter let out a sigh that was mostly a groan.

“When Your Majesty is ready,” Caine said, patient as a rock.

Jupiter hadn’t thought she was, but he had as good as asked, and she did feel it was only fair.

“I do want to,” she whispered. “To talk about it, I mean. I’m just afraid… afraid of what it could mean if I do.”

“Then be brave,” said Caine, his huge hands pressing reassuringly against the small of her back. “I’m here.”

Jupiter couldn’t help laughing a little, but it was mostly from nerves. “Yes,” she said. “You’ll protect me from my wicked, naughty kinks.”

“Kinks?” repeated Caine, sounding bewildered. Then, “Oh, you mean sexual fetishes.”

Jupiter had to bury her face in his neck to stifle her snort. “Yes, Caine. I mean my dirty, dirty, messed-up sexual fetishes. What else did you think it was?”

“I didn’t presume,” Caine said diffidently, shifting slightly beneath her.

Jupiter sighed. She’d managed to coax Caine through his nightmare scenario and out the other end successfully. Now it was her turn.

“I have a… a thing that happens,” she began, awkwardly. “When I’m with someone, or, or I think about being with someone, and I imagine… um… _doing_ things to them… it gets me really turned on…” She trailed off lamely.

“Like the things you do to me?” Caine asked, so open and honestly curious Jupiter felt compelled to answer.

“Yeah, like those things. And… and more.”

“Like what?”

He didn’t sound worried or disgusted or condescendingly amused, like some of her previous partners. Just curious, and maybe a little bit anticipatory. Jupiter began to dare hope that this was not going to be a complete disaster. Still, it was too much to expect Caine would accept everything about her, and though she prepared herself for the inevitable rejection, she knew it was going to hurt.

“Like… um… marking you?” she said, and was interested to feel a shiver run through his body. “Not permanently,” she added. “Nothing like scaring or burning. Just, I dunno, like bruises? Maybe welts, if I could use the crop. And… well… just being in control, I guess. But really _doing_ things with it. Telling you exactly what to do, how to do it, and being _obeyed._ Uh, that’s a big thing. And…um… tying you up? A lot? Like not handcuffs but full rope bondage; hands, legs, neck, everything. And gags. Kind of into gags.”

She rambled to a stop. Caine was holding her more firmly now, and was staring off over her shoulder with an expression that bordered on wistfulness.

“And you… find pleasure in doing these things?” he asked.

“Thinking about them, yeah,” said Jupiter, resting her chin on one broad shoulder. “Realistically… it scares me. Because I don’t want to be some sadistic domineering master. I don’t _want_ to hurt anyone. But thinking about it, and everything I’ve done with you… it feels _right._ It makes me feel powerful, and safe, and incredibly turned on. So, um… yeah?”

Caine pulled his head back so he could meet her gaze, and she found herself on the receiving end of a considering, narrow-eyed stare. Then she saw his lip curl into a half smile, and something tight inside her stomach unwound.

“If it helps,” he said. “There is nothing Your Majesty has just named that I wouldn’t find agreeable.”

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” said Jupiter.

Caine frowned in mock concern. “Well,” he admitted. “Maybe not the gags.”

“You don’t like things in your mouth?” Jupiter asked. It was not what she’d expected of Caine’s hard limits, but then there really was no accounting for turn-ons and turn-offs.

“Not really,” said Caine. “But only because it means I can’t do anything else with it.”

“Oh my god,” said Jupiter, burying her face in his neck. He smelled thickly of musk and earth and electric energy, and Jupiter found herself unable to resist licking him. “I’m gonna have to get you a spider gag.”

“I do not want a spider in my mouth,” Caine said, firmly.

Jupiter had to laugh. “It’s not an actual spider,” she said, grinning. “It’s metal. There’s this bit that goes in your mouth and holds it open. So, like, you have a gag but can still do things. With your mouth, I mean.”

“Ah,” said Caine, sounding intrigued. “That would be something to try.”

“I can’t believe you,” Jupiter said, muffled against his neck.

She felt a bristly kiss pressed into her forehead.

“Is that all?” he asked.

Jupiter sighed. There was one other thing. The big, elephant-in-the-dungeon thing, but she wasn’t sure even _Caine_ would be agreeable to it. It wasn’t something most regular guys would even consider, let alone _enjoy,_ and Caine was a super-splice-space-marine-flying-warrior-hunter-dude. There was no way…

Jupiter bit her lip and said nothing.

Underneath her, Caine sighed.

“If it is any consolation,” he said at length. “Among splices there are enough genetic variations to make for some… interesting variations on what you would call ‘vanilla sex.’ What might be wildly perverted and taboo to you could be perfectly normal for someone else. And what’s normal for you might be—”

“Okay, I get it, I get it,” said Jupiter, rocking her head into his chin. “It’s just… I’ve never talked about this with _anyone_ before.”

Caine was silent, but the expectant sort of silent that begged to be filled, and so Jupiter found herself plunging onwards, trying not to think too hard about what she was saying.

“I like being in control, right? And I like, um, hurting you. But not the _hurting_ part, you understand? Just, the intensity of the sensations, I think. It’s kinda like what you said, about there being this animal in you. Well, it’s like there’s this fire in me, and when I’m in charge it sort of swells up and fills me, and it wants— _I_ want—to just give and give and give. Really _dish_ it out. Oh jesus, Caine, I wanna fuck you. Not like this, not even with me on top. I mean, I want to strap on a dick and pound your ass through the floor… holy shit I just said that aloud, didn’t I?”

“Yes, yes you did,” said Caine, but his face had gone a misty and vacant. For a moment Jupiter worried that she’d broken his brain, but then she recognized the expression for his “descending into sub space” look, and she had to stare in disbelief.

“Caine?”

“I think I would”—he inhaled roughly—“like that.”

“What?” said Jupiter.

He dragged his eyes down and stared at her, hard, as though he was afraid she would disappear at any moment, and he could fix her existence by the force of his gaze.

“You know I sometimes have trouble believing you are real?” he said, as if admitting to some shameful weakness. Under his wings, his hands were stroking gently down her sides. “I’m not…” 

_Worthy,_ Jupiter thought. But the word never came.

He stopped. He shut his eyes and shook his head, denying what he’d left unspoken. When his eyes opened again they were clear and blue and determined, and just a little defiant. “I would consider it an honor, Your Majesty.”

“Okay, okay,” said Jupiter, beginning to feel rather drunk. “But just so we’re clear, _you_ are the amazing, dream-come-true, too-good-to-be-real lover, all right?”

Caine smiled bashfully and turned his head away.

“I’m _serious,_ ” said Jupiter. “Shit, Caine, do you know how many guys would flip their lid and run screaming from the room if said I wanted to fuck them in the ass?”

“I could not guess,” said Caine, modestly. “But they would all be fools.”

“You’re impossible,” said Jupiter, pressing her hands into his wings.

_And yet, you are real,_ she thought dizzily.

“I would have said the same of you, a year ago,” he said quietly.

They lay together in comfortable, if rather sticky, silence. Then Caine asked:

“Anything else?”

Jupiter thought about it.

“Not… really. No. Nothing I can think of at the moment.”

“You don’t want to drink my blood?

“Uh… _no._ ”

“Or cut off pieces of me and eat them?”

“ _What?_ ” Jupiter nearly pulled herself right off him, despite the knot.

“Different species, different norms,” said Caine placidly.

“Gungh,” said Jupiter, collapsing back on top of him. “No.” She swallowed. “Unless, _you_ wanted—”

“No,” said Caine, firmly.

“Okay then…” said Jupiter. “I think… I think we’re good?”

Caine’s arms squeezed around her waist. He was growing marginally more soft inside her, and she knew it wouldn’t be long now.

“Yeah,” he said, his assurance at least, rock-solid. “We’re good.”

*

It wasn’t until after they had untangled, cleaned up, and gone to bed that Caine finally let Jupiter take the collar off him.

“At _least_ let me loosen it,” she’d said, and he’d agreed. Once she got it unbuckled, however, she couldn’t resist giving the indented flesh a massage, which had wrung blissful whines out of Caine’s throat, and had led to her taking the thing off entirely so she could sooth the abused skin more easily.

In doing so she felt the rough, raised edges of his brand, and a moment later she found herself staring at in in disbelief.

It had always been rather difficult to make out, since the discoloration was slight, and the curve of Caine’s neck further distorted the figures. It had always struck Jupiter as a rectangular box with squiggles on the inside, but something about the low, sideways light from the bedside lamp and the way the collar had pressed a white band across most of it—making the darker, raised skin stand out more—finally threw the shapes into a recognizable pattern.

It was a pattern Jupiter had not expected to see. It was the same pattern she’d seen every day, decorating the wall poster she had of her namesake planet. It was in the book on the planets she’d read as a child, and on the astrology pendant Aunt Nino had given her.

On Caine’s neck it appeared twice inside the box, the one on the right the mirror of the other.

“Caine,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm. “Why does your splicer’s brand include the symbol for Jupiter?”

“What?” said Caine, lifting his head and turning to frown at her.

“Your, um, brand,” said Jupiter, stroking a finger gently across it. “Looks a lot like the symbol our astronomers use for—”

“Oh, that,” said Caine, flopping back down onto the pillows. “It’s not. It’s an approximation of his initials, which are AA, but when written in his ancestor’s alphabet, comes out looking more like your 4s. Which I believe was the basis for that planet’s symbol.”

“Oh,” said Jupiter, feeling strangely disappointed. But perhaps Aunt Nino’s constant yammering about her being born under an auspicious sign with a special destiny had sunk in more than she liked to admit, because she found herself rubbing over the skin of Caine’s brand and wondering about fate and destiny and all the other things she had thought were impossible until now.

Like the astounding person currently sharing her bed.

“Are you _sure_ its your splicer’s initials?” she prodded, pressing her thumb into the brand.

Caine closed his eyes at the sensation, but nodded.

“I think,” said Jupiter, pulling his face toward her so she could kiss his cheek. “That it’s actually my name.”

“Oh, really?” said Caine, sleepily amused.

“It is now, anyway,” said Jupiter, grinning. “And that’s what matters.”

Caine smiled, too tired to even try to hide it.

“Yes,” he said, settling his head against her shoulder.

Jupiter left the collar on the floor by the bed, and went to sleep with her hands still laid over Caine’s neck.

*

Weeks passed, in the way that weeks do when you are simultaneously working a housecleaning job and remotely deputizing people to take care of your enormous galactic estate. Jupiter knew she should do something about Fillien, but it made her unhappy to think about and every time she checked in with Smasher the word was that the prince was still alive and still not comfortable and she didn’t feel strongly motivated to change anything about that.

Caine’s second round of tests came back with glowing results across the board—as did Jupiter’s—and they celebrated with the kind of barrier-free sex that necessitated a very hot load of laundry in the morning. 

Aleska and Nino finally managed to wring a promise out of Jupiter to bring her mystery man around for dinner, though Jupiter managed to haggle the date a few weeks out in order to give them time to prepare. 

The only noticeable dampener was, oddly, Gurnogheth, who’d taken to doing the sargon equivalent of _moping_ around the downstairs apartment. Jupiter couldn’t imagine that she was still bitter over being denied a meal of Fillien—but then, Jupiter supposed she didn’t know much about sargon temperaments so it could have been that. Either way, it was a surprise when Gurnogheth came knocking on Caine’s window one evening, holding a small metal box in her huge claws.

“Confidential delivery,” she said, after being let in. She presented the box to Jupiter. “Came by private courier from Cerise. I have determined that it is not toxic or explosive.”

Jupiter, who had been about to take the box, hesitated. She looked uncertainly from Gurnogheth to Caine, who came forward and sniffed the box curiously.

“Let me open it,” he said, and when Jupiter nodded he took the box and put it on the kitchen counter.

“Thanks, Gurnogheth,” Jupiter said. “Um… that’s all, thanks.”

Gurnogheth saluted, but in a heavy, depressed sort of way. She looked so woebegone, Jupiter cast her mind about for something—anything—that might cheer her up.

“Gurnogheth?” she said. “Would you like a… um… a day off?”

For the first time since the unfortunate incident with Prince Fillien, the sargon perked up. “You mean, personal leave?”

“Yeah,” said Jupiter. “Sure. Like, why not start now, huh? Go, like, have some fun. Just don’t kill anyone.”

Gurnogheth gave her an unreadable glare, but saluted again—this time with her old energy. “Majesty,” she said, and took off with remarkable speed out the still-open window.

“I _hope_ that puts her in a better mood,” Jupiter said. “I can’t _imagine_ what was eating her. Do you have any idea, Caine? Caine?”

Caine did not answer. He’d opened the box and was staring at its contents, his nostrils flared and his wings half-open, frozen in a pose that was both intrigued and frightened.

“Caine?” said Jupiter. “What is it?”

“I don’t know,” Caine said, stiff and quiet. “There’s a note.”

Jupiter came around and peeked inside.

The box contained a jar roughly the size and shape of a quart milk bottle. It was filled to the brim with a thick, translucent, reddish-brown substance that held a few air bubbles. Next to it was a pad that, when activated, presented the crest and signature of Kalique Abrasax, and below that a message from the woman herself.

 

> _To Lady Jupiter,_ [it read]
> 
> _While I was unable to uncover any additional information regarding the fate of Olivian Belantine , your request did remind me of this outstanding piece of business between you and I—one which I meant to conclude during our initial visit, which as you recall was rather abruptly curtailed. Nevertheless, it is my hope that this gesture will help establish a bond of trust between us, friend Mother._
> 
> _The enclosed artifact was confiscated from a smuggler I caught some years ago. I was intrigued to find that it originated from Earth, but as you had not yet recurred and Balem had no interest in it, I took the liberty of archiving it. As you now are the owner of Earth, I feel it is only right that this should also be returned to you._
> 
> _My best regards to you and your lovely captain, and remember: Cerise will always welcome you._
> 
> _Affectionately,_
> 
> _Kalique Abrasax, Ent._

Jupiter read it several times, but the message never got any clearer. In the end she handed the pad to Caine and pulled the bottle out, turning it over in the light. On closing inspection it appeared the substance was a thick, viscous liquid—like that of molasses or honey—and there were small impurities suspended in it, like flecks of tree bark.

“Do you think she tells the truth?” Caine wondered aloud.

“I think this is as close as she gets,” sighed Jupiter, flipping the bottle around. “I ask about Olivian Belantine, and I get a bottle of goo. It’s probably not a coincidence, but I have no idea what this stuff is.”

“Neither do I,” said Caine, but he was still looking at the bottle as though he was afraid it might bite him. “But… I found something like it, once.”

“Really?” said Jupiter. “How can you tell?”

“The smell,” said Caine tightly. “The wipe got most of it, but I remember there _was_ a smell—it was the smell that got my attention in the first place. I didn’t think I’d recognize it if I smelled it again… but I did. I _do._ ”

“Caine?” said Jupiter. “What are you talking about?”

“That,” said Caine, pointing at the bottle, “contains something a lot like you would call honey—but it’s not like any honey I’ve ever smelled—and it was what I smelled right before I attacked Olivian Belantine.”

Jupiter felt like there was a huge puzzle of mixed-up pieces in her brain, and at that moment they all got tossed into the air. If she could just stand still long enough, eventually they’d all fall neatly into place and the picture would be revealed.

Caine didn’t move; didn’t speak. Jupiter felt the bottle as a cool, smooth weight in her hand. Slowly, one by one, the picture filled in.

Caine had smelled something suspicious and gone to investigate, and discovered Olivian Belantine where he was not supposed to be. Then Olivian Belantine had gone missing in Kalique’s home system. Now Kalique had sent her a jar which smelled exactly the same as the stuff which had precipitated Caine’s attack in the first place.

A jar, Kalique said, which apparently originated from _Earth_.

Like a meteor coming out of the sun Jupiter felt Fillien’s words slam into her mind all over again.

_You do not know what miracles you possess!_

And Balem had been ready to harvest Earth early instead of letting her have it.

Earth was special, somehow. Jupiter knew this in her bones—maybe her very _genes—_ and this honey—whatever—which Olivian Belantine had thought was worth more than the head of the splice that attacked him, which he’d probably ultimately been killed for, which Kalique had kept secret from Balem (of that Jupiter was sure), had come _from_ _Earth_.

Jupiter sniffed the bottle. She couldn’t smell anything but glass and the lingering perfume of the soap she’d used to wash her hands.

“What _does_ it smell like?” she asked.

“Sweet,” said Caine, but he was frowning, as if describing it gave him difficulty. “Pungent. Like honey, but… darker. Sort of spicy. Dangerous.”

“But you’re pretty sure it’s honey?” said Jupiter, realizing she could, of course, open the bottle and take a whiff herself, but that seemed like asking for trouble.

“Something very much like it,” said Caine.

“Huh,” said Jupiter, hefting the bottle. “Luckily for us we’ve got someone who knows an awful lot about honey.”

For the first time since opening the box, the stricken look on Caine’s face eased, and he even smiled a little.

“I’ll notify Stinger,” he said. “We can be there before midnight.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: [Now with fanart!](http://elrondxrn.tumblr.com/post/115542271804/as-an-art-prompt-for-chapter-six-might-i-suggest)
> 
> I hope you like the smell of PLOT in the morning! *cackles*
> 
> Once again I have to thank everyone who's commented and kudo'd and read and enjoyed this! I am simply overjoyed that my contribution to this awesome fandom has been so well received! You guys give me strength: tentacle blessings upon you all!
> 
> I filled a bunch of fanart requests over on tumblr, and you can see the results in my [HTTYAWBF fanart tag](http://elrondxrn.tumblr.com/search/HTTYAWBF+fanart)—along with some *le gasp* fanart by OTHER PEOPLE. *flails* (By the way, I give BLANKET PERMISSION for anyone to do fanart of this thing! My only request is that, if you post it, please share it with me!)
> 
> The little boutique Jupiter visits [is a real place](http://early2bedshop.com/about/). I have not had the pleasure of actually going there, but I have made purchases from their online shop and they are a quality business. If you're in the Chicago area, please go visit them on me behalf. If you want, you can tell them you discovered them through smutty fanfiction on the internet. I bet they'd get a kick out of that.
> 
> For those of you interested in meta and the fanon backstory I am weaving to support these characters (since the movie leaves so much up to our imagination) I have a bit of blabber about Caine and being a runt [over here](http://elrondxrn.tumblr.com/post/115069982734/more-caine-thoughts).
> 
> *big inhale* One more chapter! Be warned endings tend to take me longer to write… just because I want to, you know, _get them right_. But it will come! As will our heroes! *idiotic grin*
> 
> Keep ascending!


	7. Ending on a High Note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The practice of ending a training session on a success or breakthrough, in order to reinforce the achievement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains terminology and head-canons which I made up in order to fill gaps left by the movie. So, in order to prevent confusion: _Regenex _is the pure product created by Abrasax Industries et al that Kalique and Balem used in the film to return to their ideal physical condition. In this fic, this is what Stinger calls a “reset.” In the film he also mentions something called a “recode,” which I am taking to mean something done to splices to correct a genetic imperfection. I imagine it is very expensive, and therefore, very rarely done (it being cheaper just to breed a new splice). Similarly, resets are also rarely afforded splices, since the amount of Regenex needed is normally cost-prohibitive.__
> 
> ___Emergen_ is something I made up. Basically it is low-quality Regenex synthesized from genes cloned off living donors. It is used primarily by the Aegis and the Legion, as well as the better-funded hospitals. It is what I imagine Stinger used on Caine’s wound in the movie. In my head it stimulates the body’s natural healing properties, but doesn’t cure things like illness or reverse the aging process. It is all that remains of the original Regenex solution, developed from clones, which caused the plague mentioned by Kalique that nearly wiped out humanity._ _
> 
> __New tags for this chapter: Anal Sex, and (HOLYYESIWENTTHERE) Pegging._ _
> 
> __Also, please enjoy some gratuitous Gurnogheth/Smasher shmoop._ _

**Interlude III**

 

The Earth sparkled behind Gurnogheth as she sped outwards in the tiny shuttle craft. Its rearward viewers displayed a magnificent picture of the bright tracery of orange and gold that lit up the continents of earth like a fiery web. As she passed beyond the exosphere and cleared the planet’s shadow the sun traced a perfect circle of fire around it. The sight put her in mind of a glimmering gem framed by flames.

If anyone had asked her to describe it she would have grunted and glared meaningfully at their throat.

The Galactic Legion Ship _Helioblade_ appeared on her sensors before her eyes could detect the faint shimmer in space that was the telltale giveaway of a cloaked ship. As she approached she saw the smaller, delicate shape of the prince’s yacht, _Nerefstaria_ , towed behind it, and gritted her teeth against the automatic swell of indignation and fury.

Lady Jupiter had said no one was to harm Prince Fillien. Lady Jupiter was her master, and Gurnogheth had not survived Balem Abrasax by being disobedient, but still she felt her mouth water at the thought of his soft, pale flesh ripping under her teeth. It was not so much the fact that he had assaulted Jupiter—that was only to be expected—but the _nature_ of his attack had been so underhanded, so _unsporting,_ that Gurnogheth had lost all respect for the man. Give her an enemy who stated their case clearly, who faced you across an even playing field with their weapons out, and who waited until you had armed yourself to attack. Give her an enemy with a swift, devastating punch, with courage and determination and terrifying strength. Give her an enemy who shared her disgust for any slithery, backstabbing move.

Gurnogheth had to shake her head physically as she realized she was picturing Smasher Mantine as her perfect enemy. Lieutenant Mantine was _not_ her enemy, and Gurnogheth didn’t think she wanted her to be. 

She wanted her for _something,_ though. And she wanted to find out what that something was enough to spend the generous leave Jupiter had granted her making a flight to high orbit and requesting permission to dock with the Legion corvette.

It was a _nice_ ship, she had to admit. Not a frail toy or even a sleek frigate. This one was small, but it had _teeth_ ; guns studded its spine and twin neutron cannons bulged from its belly. Its dark, ablative armor shimmered with streaks of gold as the sunlight played off the energy shields, giving the ship an almost wasp-like coloration. Not a bad analogy, Gurnogheth decided. _Helioblade_ did not stomp in and steamroll you; it tore you to shreds with vicious claws.

Or punched you to smithereens.

Now she was thinking about Smasher again. It was becoming problematic.

The ensign on comm duty looked ready to wet himself when Gurnogheth turned on her visual channel and requested permission to dock. The way she phrased it, it probably sounded as though she was demanding a dock or she would bite his face off through the view screen. People reacted to her that way a lot. It didn’t bother her. The upshot was she was docked in less than a minute, and a minute later found herself pacing moodily toward the commanding officer’s cabin.

Smasher had not reacted that way. Smasher had looked at her as though, if Gurnogheth had tried to bite her face off, things would have gone badly for Gurnogheth’s mouth. It had felt like jumping into quicksand and hitting a solid rock.

Gurnogheth was not accustomed to deception, and so had to admit that she had enjoyed the sensation. It had been a pleasant surprise, nothing more. Caine Wise was not the only Legionnaire with backbone, it appeared. That was good. She would not have to police Lady Jupiter’s Honor Guard, not with Smasher in charge. Smasher could probably beat some new skills into her own troops.

No, no, it was no good thinking about that. No good thinking anything, really, until she’d seen the splice and figured out what she wanted her for.

She was outside Smasher’s door when she realized she had no good excuse for being there. She still had not thought of one when she knocked, and, after being acknowledged, stepped inside.

She had not survived Balem Abrasax by being a dimwitted lump, however. She decided she would invite Smasher to come provide her professional opinion of her troops after all, and was about to say something to the effect when Smasher Mantine looked up from behind her console and snapped:

“Tell me the human queen has sent you to help me make Fillien puree.”

It was like being blasted by all the best sunsets in the galaxy. Including the ones where the sun blew up. Gurnogheth looked at Smasher’s face and was reminded of planetary nebulas, their brilliant shades of blue and orange and green, with the shining pink orbs as dying stars.

Red feelers flicked out, like tongues of flame, and the delicate fronds that hung below her ears reminded Gurnogheth of the fall of meteors.

The splice had her (amazing, beautiful, _deadly_ ) arms crossed on her desk, and one armored, red finger was tapping sharply on it.

Distantly, Gurnogheth realized she’d been asked a question.

“No,” she said, with heartfelt regret. “She still wishes that he remain confined, and uncomfortable.”

Smasher Mantine sucked in an annoyed breath. “Captain Wise should have let me eat him. I know he wanted to, himself. It’s not like he’s good for anything else—the prince, not Captain Wise. I mean— _sex pollen._ Of all the cowardly, weak, _disrespectful_ things to do!”

She was like a solar flare, Gurnogheth decided. A bright arch of fire against a dark, dull night. Graceful and delicate-looking, but infinitely destructive and powerful.

“Apologies. It’s not my place to air grievances with you. What’s brought you here, anyway?”

_I want to know you,_ thought Gurnogheth. _I want to know you on the level of souls. I want to walk with you on strange shores, underneath strange skies, and see the universe through your eyes. I want to carry you over distant mountains, feel you thrill in my arms at the joy of flight. I want you to drag me into your ocean and never let me go._

What she said was: “Fight me.”

Something in Smasher Mantine’s pink eyes sharpened, and she stood up from behind her desk and rested her hands on it.

Gurnogheth felt stripped bare under the scrutiny, and yet at the same time she reveled in the attention.

“Why?” asked Smasher Mantine.

_Because you are my perfect enemy, and I want you. Not as my enemy. Not as my rival. I just want you, and whatever you are willing to give me._

But instead of speaking, she just growled.

Smasher mounted the desk and was over it in the blink of an eye. She leapt toward Gurnogheth, one arm raised.

Gurnogheth judged the angle and velocity and measured it against her own knowledge of her armor and scales and decided not to bother dodging.

The punch hit her square in the sternum and propelled her back against the door so hard she felt it give under her. Flimsy thing.

Smasher had not retreated. She’d fisted her punching hand into the front of Gurnogheth’s coat and used it to pull herself up to stare into the sargon’s eyes.

“I don’t think you want to fight me,” she said, her own eyes bright and pink as sunrise with tiny, pin-prick pupils.

_Of course I want to fight you,_ Gurnogheth thought. _I want you to hit me everywhere. I want to find out what it takes to pin you. I want to feel your fists and see your stupid, perfect Legionnaire uniform disheveled and you out of breath and flustered. I want you to… I just want you._

That was it. That was all it was. All it had ever been. Gurnogheth felt a stab of shame that she hadn’t realized before. If she had, she probably would not have made the trip. Would not have walked into Smasher’s office. Would not, now, be feeling one of Smasher’s fists pressing into her ribcage.

But Gurnogheth was not in the habit of lying, not even to herself, and she wasn’t about to start now.

“No,” she admitted.

Was it just her, or had Smasher’s pupils gotten a little bigger? They were almost the size of a pure human’s now.

“But you do want me,” the stromatomorph said, a note of triumph in her voice.

Gurnogheth was not a coward; she had never shied away from a fight, not even an internal one. And she knew well there were many different kinds of strength. She could do this.

“Yes,” she ground out, blowing a hard breath over Smasher’s face, so her fronds danced in the wind.

Now Smasher was grinning, smiling like a bloody supernova. It made Gurnogheth’s knees feel liquid. She leaned in close so that she could extend one feeler and stroke gently along the ridge of scales under Gurnogheth’s jaw.

“What took you so long?” she asked. Her eyes were practically dark now. And against all odds, Gurnogheth found she was grinning as well.

 

**7\. Ending on a High Note**

_The practice of ending a training session on a success or breakthrough, in order to reinforce the achievement._

 

The farmhouse was dark and silent when they arrived, but Caine pushed the front door open without knocking and went in anyway.

“Hold where you are,” Stinger growled from the shadows, and there was a hum of a weapon powering up.

“What the _hell_ Stinger—I _called_ you!” Caine said.

“Yeah, but you didn’t knock,” Stinger said, and now Jupiter could hear the chiding tone in his voice.

“Stinger, can we possibly turn on a light?” she asked.

“Yes, majesty,” Stinger said, his tone of voice making a U-turn and screeching off toward deferential. There was a _click_ and a small lamp came on, revealing Stinger in his ubiquitous black jeans and button-down shirt, holding a stick to Caine’s head and a small communicator brick—which had created the humming sound.

“Sorry,” he said, taking the stick from Caine’s temple and making an involuntary motion as if to hide it behind his back. “Old habit. You’ve got to watch this one, otherwise he starts getting rude and demanding.”

“Now that I _would_ like to see,” Jupiter said without thinking, then clapped a hand over her mouth in mortification.

Stinger gave her a harrowed look. “Trust me, majesty, it’s a terrible sight. He’s like a giant—”

“ _Stinger,_ ” said Caine, sounded pained. “We think we know what happened to the Entitled I attacked—and why I attacked him.”

Stinger nearly dropped the communicator. In fact, he _did_ drop it—and caught it again before it had fallen two inches.

“ _What?_ ” he said.

“His name was Olivian Belantine,” Caine explained. “He was smuggling _something_ off of Earth. Whatever it was caught my attention, and eventually got him disappeared—we think, by Kalique Abrasax. Who’s just sent Jupiter a sample of whatever it was he’d got.”

Stinger blinked at him for a moment, his eyes flashing yellow. 

“Okay,” he said slowly. “I can see why you didn’t put that in your call.” He turned and looked curiously at Jupiter. “May I ask, though, why you’re dragging _me_ into this?”

For answer Jupiter took the bottle of dark not-exactly-honey out of her pack and held it up.

“We hoped maybe you could tell us _what it is_ ,” she said.

Everything about Stinger seemed to sharpen and intensify as he looked at the bottle. There was a twitching around his shoulders as if he wings wanted to unfold, and he reached for it before he realized he still had the communicator and the stick in his hands. Hastily shoving them into his pockets he took the bottle, turned over, held it over the light, and finally pressed his nose against it. He pulled the corners of his mouth down and gave Caine a weary look.

“What’s _your_ nose got to say about this, then?” he asked.

“It’s some sort of honey—I think,” said Caine.

Stinger sighed.

“Well, let’s have at it then.”

He led them into the kitchen, flicking on lights as he went. They revealed a small nest in the parlor, where a pile of blankets and a pot of tea with a book open, face down, next to it on the little table suggested that Stinger had not been at all surprised to see them. Had, in fact, been expecting them. Who knows how long he’d been lurking in the dark by the door waiting for Caine to come barging in, and for a moment Jupiter felt her mind distracted from the matter at hand by the contrast of weathered, worldly, weary Stinger Apini and his quirky sense of humor.

Then Stinger set the bottle on his kitchen counter and carefully broke the seal on the lid.

Caine went stiff and alert as the cap came off, and no wonder: even Jupiter could smell the rich, sweet, heady aroma that emanated from the bottle. It was, as Caine said, not unlike honey, but strong as pepper and cayenne, with a bite to it that made Jupiter’s eyes water.

Undeterred, Stinger dipped a finger in the stuff and brought it out sticky and shining from the black-red goo. He raised it to his lips and—

“Oh my _god_ Dad, don’t eat it _raw!_ ” Kiza exclaimed from the doorway.

Everyone jumped—except Caine, who had probably heard her coming. He cocked his head at the pale girl standing on the edge of the light and said, “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“Be glad I’m not!” said Kiza, and Jupiter realized she looked truly upset.

Stinger had frozen with his finger half way to his mouth, and now turned and looked at his daughter with guarded curiosity.

“Something you want to share with us, Kiza?” he asked, softly.

Kiza pursed her lips and tangled her hands in the hem of her shirt. She was looking at the ground and refused to meet her father’s gaze when she mumbled, “I don’t know.”

“Kiza,” said Jupiter, coming around Caine’s elbow so she could get a better look at the girl. “Do you know what this is?”

Kiza looked up and met her eyes for a moment. They flashed briefly yellow, and then dropped again. After a long moment, she nodded.

“Care to share with the class, Za?” Stinger prompted, carefully wiping his finger on a kitchen towel.

Kiza didn’t answer. She crossed her arms defensively over her chest, cleared her throat, and shrugged.

“You have to promise not to be mad at me,” she said, still looking at the floor.

Stinger shot Caine a flabbergasted look.

“Of course I’m not _mad_ at you,” he said. 

“Kiza, this is important,” said Caine, which Jupiter thought was a bit of an understatement.

Apparently, so did Kiza. Her face jerked up and she practically glared at Caine.

“You have no idea,” she whispered. “None of you. And that’s my fault. So please, don’t be mad. I just wasn’t sure for so long, and Da, you were always so busy, and you were in the Dead Land”—she gestured at Caine—“and _she’s_ been off doing Royal things and… well.” She sighed. “I’m not sure it’ll even _work_ on pure humans.”

“Kiza,” said Jupiter, reigning in her impatience as best she could. “What are you talking about?”

Something about the girl’s expression settled, and she uncrossed her arms and squared her shoulders. “It’s easier if I show you,” she said. “Come on.”

Turning, she walked away into the dark house. For a moment no one followed, and then Jupiter realized Caine and Stinger were waiting for _her_ to lead the way. So she grabbed up the bottle (putting the lid back on as she did so) and hurried after Kiza.

More lights came on, revealing Kiza pulling open the doors to the basement. These were a pair of wooden panels that had to be lifted aside, and when they were they revealed a dark opening with steps leading down into pitch black.

“Your fort?” Stinger asked, still bewildered.

“No, Da,” said Kiza, and sounded a little said. “It’s not been my fort for ages now.”

She disappeared down the steps, and a moment later a weak light buzzed into life from the cold depths. Feeling her way carefully down the stairs, which were dry and dusty, Jupiter found herself entering an underground cavern as organic and haphazard as the house above it. Mounds of what looked like coal lined the walls, and in one corner was a crowded bench with a small gas stove and a glass beaker on top of it. Fat little jars lined the wall behind it, and even in the dim light Jupiter could see that their contents was the same reddish-black as the honey in the bottle she held. 

The whole place smelled of the stuff, but warmer, richer— _fresher_.

A light draft wafted in from a ventilation window high above, and through it buzzed a steady stream of bees (at least, Jupiter assumed they were bees, even though she wondered why they would be out at night).

Kiza had gone over to stand at the work bench. She picked up the nearest jar and turned it over in her hands.

“It started as somethin’ to do for fun, you know,” she said, looking at the vial thoughtfully. “I just… well, they were _bees,_ Da. And you always said bees was like family and family takes care of each other, and they seemed to want takin’ care of.”

“You mean the bees that made this?” Jupiter asked, indicating the bottle.

Kiza nodded.

“They’re not like what you would call bees. Humans seem to think they’re some sort of wasp. They come out mostly at night, too. Black bees, I call ’em. And they make black honey, like what you have there.”

“Do you mean to tell me,” Stinger said, rubbing his eyes. “That you’ve been raising a hive of mutant bees in our basement?”

“They’re not mutants, Da,” said Kiza, indignantly. “I think they’re genetically engineered, but not any more than we are.”

“Yeah, but _what_ are they?” asked Caine. “And… why was an Entitled smuggling their honey off Earth?”

“When was this?” Kiza asked.

“Before,” Stinger motioned with his hand. “Everything.”

“Oh,” said Kiza, quietly. “Then, probably because they knew what that honey could do. Or suspected.”

“And what _does_ it do, Kiza?” Jupiter asked, her grip on the bottle so tight it was beginning to hurt. She was having that feeling again, like a bunch of puzzle pieces were up in the air, slowly falling into a larger picture.

_Balem was ready to harvest Earth before it was ripe, to prevent me taking it. Balem knew. Kalique suspected… Fillien too, probably._ What could possibly be worth all that trouble?

Come to that, _Titus_ could have been after Earth as well, all along.

Kiza sighed.

“Technically? It prevents data corruption in cell mitosis and introduces auto-fixes into genetic degradation. It also helps regulate the immune system and reduces scar tissue.”

Caine’s jaw dropped and Stinger let out a breath like someone had punched him.

“I’m sorry,” said Jupiter. “I heard data corruption and auto-fix and immune system.”

“Basically,” Kiza said. “It promotes healing, prevents allergic reactions, autoimmune disorders, and probably cancer also, and essentially halts the aging process.

“At least,” she added bashfully. “In all the subjects I’ve been able to test it on.”

“ _What?_ ” said Stinger. “Kiza, don’t tell me you’ve been feeding this to the tersies over in—”

“ _No_ Da!” gasped Kiza, looking horrified. “Just me, _just me._ And… uh… you. For the last year. But only after I figured out it was safe.”

“And you did that by experimenting on _yourself?_ ” Stinger said, bristling.

“You promised you wouldn’t get mad!” Kiza exclaimed, balling her hands into fists. “And I had to do _something!_ Remember that winter, when my bug got really bad and I could barely breathe? That’s when I started, Da—and it _worked._ Not right away, like, but it’s _been_ working. What, did you think your ration of emergen was enough for me to manage something like a bug? No, it was this stuff.” She wagged the jar. “I figured out it just needs a little heat and the proteins start to break down into something my body can metabolize. Sure, it’s not as fast as a reset, but it’s _working._ Be _happy,_ now you can stop cooking up mad plots to get me recode or something.”

None of them said anything. Jupiter was conscious of Stinger going bright red, but couldn’t bring herself to look at him.

Caine hadn’t spoken of the betrayal since they’d returned from Titus’s clipper, aside from explaining why Stinger had done it. He’d also explained that Stinger was the reason for his timely intervention, and Jupiter had decided that, since Caine was probably the more wounded party, she had no business stirring up hurt if it didn’t look like he was in pain.

Kiza was looking at them sharply.

“Oh beeswax,” she whispered. “You went and did something stupid, didn’t you, Da?”

“Don’t use that language in the house,” Stinger replied, but his voice was distant and automatic.

Caine coughed. “Nothing worse than usual,” he said.

“That bad?” said Kiza, wincing a little.

“Everything turned out okay and no one died,” Jupiter cut in, since Stinger looked like his ears were about to start steaming. “Just… Kiza. You mean to tell me you’ve got, like, a magic elixir of life and you didn’t _tell_ anyone?”

“What would I have told them?” said Kiza. “There are these weird bees and they make this weird honey and if you cook it it’ll stop you aging and fix your terminal genetic tangle? At least, it will if you’re _me._ I’m not… I’m not a… a…”

“Kiza is unique,” said Stinger, quietly. “It’s perfectly possible that stuff won’t work for everyone.”

“I think it’ll work for most people, though,” said Kiza. “It’s worked for you, Da. And it seems to be the human table it reacts to, though being Apinis makes it more efficient. Which makes sense: I’ve had this hive going for fifteen years, and the queens don’t die—they just retire and hang around the hive like overly-protective grandmas.”

“Fifteen _years?_ ” Jupiter said, eyeing the girl closely. She’d always assumed Kiza was sixteen or seventeen—nineteen at the outside.

“Well, we came here when I was six,” Kiza said. “Six by Galactic Standard, anyway. And we’d been here about five Earth-years when I started the hive, and five more when I started taking the honey to manage my bug, and that was ten years ago…”

“Hold on a second,” said Jupiter, putting the numbers together. “So you’re actually… _my age?_ ”

“Closer to thirty, really, once you convert the GS years,” Kiza admitted.

Jupiter stared. Then she glanced at Stinger.

“Then how old—?” she began.

“I lost track,” Stinger sighed. “I got a reset, too, which makes things more complicated.”

“I think he’s almost seventy,” Caine supplied helpfully. “That makes me fifty,” he added, looking like he just realized this.

“Dead Land years don’t count,” Stinger said, and waved a hand between them. “As evidenced by my graceful maturation and your persistent baby face.”

“Oh,” said Jupiter, in a small voice. She’d always assumed Caine was around thirty, but then again, she was living in a universe where someone could be four thousand years old and look twenty-one.

Then the full weight of the recent revelation hit her.

“Guys,” she said, in a voice that she hoped didn’t sound too hysterical. “Kiza’s developed an immortality drug.”

“Yeah,” said Stinger, looking stunned but proud.

“An immortality drug that does _not_ require the death of billions of people,” Jupiter continued.

“It doesn’t work like Regenex,” Kiza said. “It won’t rejuvenate old cells. Once you’re old, you’re old. But it stops you aging more, and it should fix any outstanding health issues. Da, didn’t you notice your knee’s been better lately? And you re-integrated with your wings faster than anyone expected.”

“I need to sit down,” said Stinger.

“ _Guys,_ ” said Jupiter, unable to stop the bubble of exalted joy that was rising in her throat. “This is an immortality drug that comes from _bees._ ”

“Yeah,” said Caine.

Jupiter swung around and grabbed him by the front of his shirt.

“This changes _everything,_ ” she said, and started to laugh. “Don’t you see?” she cried, taking Caine’s hands and spinning him around. “It’s an alternative to Regenex! No wonder Balem didn’t want me to get hold of Earth! No wonder Olivian Belantine didn’t care if you weren’t put down as long as people didn’t find out what he had! No wonder Kalique killed him in order to get a sample of the honey—but she didn’t know to cook it, so it must not have worked for her. Why else would she let me have it _back?_ No wonder Titus and Fillien tried to take Earth away from me! And Fillien had that whole flower thing going—he _definitely_ knew!” She laughed, gayly, madly.

“Miracles, he said! He said the Earth had miracles, and he was right! Earth isn’t just a rich planet by their industry’s sick standards—it holds the key to a… to a _revolution!_ ”

“Mind the hives!” Kiza shouted, and Jupiter realized her cavorting had nearly hurtled herself and Caine into one of the piles of coal.

There was an angry buzzing, and a swarm of small, black-bodied insects rose around them. They were difficult to see in the dim light, but Jupiter thought she caught a faint iridescence about their long, shiny, black abdomens. And was the buzz of their wings at a slightly deeper pitch?

Caine froze, but the bees ignored him and went straight for Jupiter. She had a terrible moment when she wondered if _these_ bees had not been programed to recognize royalty, and then…

“Oh, wow,” said Kiza. “They’ve never done _that_ before.”

Jupiter peered around, trying to find where the bees had gone. She could still hear the buzzing of their wings, though, could feel the faint movement of their air they stirred.

Wordlessly, Stinger pointed up.

Jupiter looked, and found that the bees had formed a tight formation above her head. Roughly circular, it put Jupiter in mind of a halo. Or a crown. Then they began to stream back into their coal-black hive. All save one, slightly larger than the others. This one alighted on Jupiter’s nose—her feet the softest of touches—and Jupiter crossed her eyes trying to keep the bee in sight.

“Wait,” said Kiza, coming over to stand in front of her. “That’s _her._ That’s my first queen.”

“How can you tell?” Jupiter asked. The bee was just a tiny black blotch on the tip of her nose.

“I’m an _Apini,_ ” sighed Kiza. “I can tell bees apart.”

The old queen stayed on Jupiter’s nose, exploring her skin with her antennae. Then, seemingly satisfied, she took off and returned to her hive.

“Well,” said Stinger, clearing his throat. “At least they have proper manners.”

“So… you’re not mad?” Kiza asked, sounding apprehensive.

For answer, Stinger stumbled over and embraced his daughter. Jupiter thought she heard him mumble something about Kiza doing her mother proud, but then Kiza started to cry and she had to look away.

*

Jupiter sat up into the long into the wee hours of the morning, thinking. She went up onto Stinger’s roof and listened the to soft sounds of the black bees as they went about their nocturnal business. She wondered what sort of flowers they fed on, if they only came out at night. She wondered about fate and destiny and whether they were perhaps more real than she had first given them credit for.

Eventually Caine joined her, wrapping himself around her and his wings around both of them. Held securely against his warm body, Jupiter felt herself relax, finally drifting toward sleep.

“What are you going to do, Majesty?” he asked, his voice a soft rumble against her back.

“I’m thinking about that,” sighed Jupiter. “This isn’t something we can just dump on people. Too many people have been hurt already, and there’s that whole big industry Balem wouldn’t shut up about. That won’t go away overnight. It’s also not something we should hide. I think… I think we’d better do this slowly. Carefully.”

“Do what?” asked Caine.

Jupiter yawned. “Overthrow the industry of planet-harvesting in favor of a life-sustaining alternative. That’s the thing, Caine. You can’t just take something like Regenex and yank it out of people’s hands. They’ll fight you. I’ve seen it here on Earth, on a smaller scale. But if you offer them a better alternative… I can’t imagine I’m the only one who doesn’t like the idea of killing off whole planets for the benefit of a few rich bastards. We’ll reach out to those people—and see where it goes from there.”

His strong arms tightened around her.

“Regenex is an established part of Entitled culture,” he pointed out. “There will be those who will fight you.”

He was right. Jupiter supposed she should be frightened, but it was hard to feel frightened when she was had six feet of space-marine angel wolf-boy wrapped around her. “That’s what I have you and Gurnogheth for,” she said, threading her fingers through his. “And Smasher. We’ll just throw Smasher at whoever disagrees.”

That got a laugh out of Caine, and Jupiter settled herself more comfortably into his arms. She slept, and dreamed of bees and honey and, strangely, of an older woman with her face, who smiled at her from across a gulf of death and time.

*

Morning brought a bright, late-autumn sun, and the smell of toasting bread and coffee. They stumbled into the kitchen to find Kiza self-consciously setting the table around a jar of her own black honey—which looked to Jupiter exactly like the bottle she’d got from Kalique, save maybe a little more purple than red.

“I thought… well. You know I would have told you, once I was absolutely sure,” she said, blushing. “But, since you know. I figured you’d probably want to… er… try it?”

Jupiter looked across the table to where Stinger was smearing a generous helping onto a slice of toast. He shrugged. “It definitely tastes better than Regenex.”

“I don’t think I want to know how you know that,” Jupiter said.

“Nope,” agreed Stinger, and took a big bite out of his toast.

“I’m afraid I’m still not certain whether it’ll _work_ for you,” Kiza admitted apologetically.

Jupiter considered this.

“Well, then,” she said. “I suppose there’s only one way to find out.”

Caine was looking uncertain, however. Jupiter couldn’t blame him. This was, after all, the thing that had gotten him kicked out of the Legion—at least indirectly. So she took the liberty of buttering a thick piece of toast—Kiza had managed to get a nice, crusty loaf of fresh, fluffy bread—and pouring a generous amount of honey over it.

“Here,” she said, holding it up to Caine’s face. “I think you deserve first bite.”

Caine first looked surprised, then touched, and then concerned.

“I shouldn’t—” he began, stopped, and started again. “You should eat first,” he finished, lamely.

“Oh don’t you start on that again,” Stinger sighed, and Jupiter felt something in her flip over as she realized how accurately he had voiced her inner thoughts.

Caine was glaring moodily at Stinger, however, and that gave her room to think of a solution.

“How about we it eat together?” she suggested, and wiggled her eyebrows.

Caine gave her a long-suffering look.

“Come on,” said Jupiter. “It’ll be fun.”

She brought the slice of honeyed toast to Caine’s lips, then leaned forward and opened her mouth, waiting for Caine to do the same.

He did, but only reluctantly, and Jupiter noticed that he didn’t actually take a bite until her teeth had sunk into the bread. But he chewed when she chewed and swallowed when she swallowed, and together they worked their way through the slice of toast.

The honey tasted like it smelled; sweet and spicy and a little heady, like wine. Jupiter didn’t feel anything change about her, but she supposed that was the point. Idly she wondered how much honey one had to eat every day to get the desired effect, and whether she could get away with slipping it into her family’s coffee.

When the toast had disappeared between them, Jupiter found she her face pressed up against Caine’s, so she took the next logical step and kissed him.

It turned out that Caine’s natural taste combined with the honey was an intoxicating combination. Jupiter might have moaned a little.

“Wow,” said Kiza.

“I think I’m getting a cavity,” said Stinger, dryly.

“This won’t give you cavities, Da,” his daughter pointed out.

“I wasn’t taking about the honey,” said Stinger.

“You talk too much, Stinger,” said Caine, but he said it lovingly, even as he pulled Jupiter into his lap and returned the kiss.

*

“You’ll need a security detail,” Caine said after breakfast, nodding in Kiza’s direction.

“I’m Aegis,” said Stinger. “I _am_ her security.”

“Yeah,” said Caine. “And now you’re sitting on the biggest discovery since gravity manipulators. I can have Smasher send a unit, or you could keep Gurnogheth and her troops stationed here.”

Stinger shuddered. “I’ll take a unit of Legionnaires, thanks.”

“Kiza, how many hives do you have?” Jupiter asked as Caine rose to go make the call. It had seemed like the basement was full of coal, but now she realized that was the black bees’ homes, she assumed there must be half a dozen at least.

“Eight,” said Kiza. “Not counting the new one that started this spring—it’s only at half strength still.”

“So you could possibly transplant one or more?” She hesitated. She knew next to nothing about bee keeping, but she did know that for her plan to work they would need to cultivate the bees across Earth—and beyond.

“Possibly,” said Kiza, rubbing her nose. “They all work together, you see. I’ll talk to the queens and see if there are some princesses willing to make the jump. It _is_ getting a bit crowded in there.”

“You do that,” said Jupiter. “And… I dunno… can you write out some instructions on how to keep them? And what to do with the honey? I have a plan,” she added, seeing the confusion and alarm growing on Kiza’s face. She explained. It sounded suspiciously simple, now she said it aloud. But the clouds lifted from Kiza’s face, and she smiled.

“Sure,” she said. “I can do that.”

From the communication console on the other side of the room, the viewscreen flashed into life as Caine hailed Smasher’s corvette.

The lieutenant was a long time answering. Jupiter and Kiza and even Stinger drifted over while the hail went out again and again. So they were all standing around Caine’s chair when the screen finally switched to video, showing… not Smasher but—

“Gurnogheth?” said Caine, incredulously. “What are you doing there?”

“What do you want?” returned the sargon, her moody, reptilian face filling the screen.

“I’d like to speak to my lieutenant,” said Caine. “You better not have eaten _her._ ”

An odd look passed over Gurnogheth’s face. It took a while, but eventually Jupiter realized the creature was blushing.

“The lieutenant is sleeping,” said Gurnogheth in a throaty whisper. “She is unharmed,” she added. “Do you wish me to wake her?”

“I—” Caine began, and finally noticed the crowd that had gathered around him. Stinger was staring pointedly at the ceiling and Kiza was fighting back a laugh.

“No,” he finished. “No… just… tell her to call me when she wakes up.”

“Sir,” said Gurnogheth, and saluted. The screen blacked out.

“Well,” said Jupiter, weakly. “At least she seems to be feeling better.”

Caine just rubbed his eyes and groaned.

*

Jupiter spent the afternoon going through Stinger’s list of contacts in the Aegis and the Legion who would be interested in cultivating the black bees. She’d decided to disregard the class nonsense associated with Regenex; after all, the honey could be useful to military and law enforcement, and since the combined forces of the Aegis and the Legion out-numbered the Entitled and Royals by thousands to one, they seemed like a good place to start. She also called in Chicanery Night, and instructed him on the filing of certain paperwork which would, once it had filtered through the labyrinth of Orous, add a handful more planets to her already extensive inventory.

She would introduce colonies of black bees to all the compatible planets she owned. Both to benefit the local populations, but also to provide the resources she would need to push Regenex off the market.

Balem was right about one thing: it was a huge operation. But thanks to the legacy of Seraphi Abrasax, Jupiter found she was uniquely poised to give the market the initial shove it needed to start heading in a different direction.

The research ate up the entire afternoon, and by the time Smasher arrived with her security detail—looking even more colorful than usual and a little smug—she could do little more than climb onto Caine’s back and mumble, “Take me home,” into his neck.

It was a mark of how comfortable she’d become riding on his back that she slept all the way to Chicago.

*

Jupiter awoke, alone, in the middle of Caine’s bed. Somehow she’d gotten tangled in the blankets during the night, and while she was flailing her way out of them the events of the last thirty-six hours caught up with her.

Kiza had been raising mutant bees that produced immortality honey. She, Jupiter, was poised to topple the Regenex industry by the power of _bees_. And thanks to the honey, she had all the time she needed to do it.

A wave of elation washed through her, and she drifted into the living area, her head filled with a pleasant, golden haze, never minding that she was in little more than her underwear.

Caine was sitting at the breakfast bar, his back to her as he went through the mail which had arrived the day before. His wings were tightly folded, and his arms were bare, pale against the dark leather of his uniform. His strange tattoo, like a kind of art nouveau circuit board, caught the light of the morning sun. 

_I can have an eternity of mornings like this,_ Jupiter thought, dazedly. An eternity of mornings greeted by Caine doing peaceful, domestic tasks—or better yet, lazy mornings whiled away in each other’s arms.

Maybe that was an overwhelming thought to some people. Maybe forever was too much for the human mind to handle. But as far as Jupiter was concerned, at that moment eternity looked fucking amazing. It was as though a part of her that she’d kept carefully locked down had finally been released, and now she was able to think and dream things she’d never dared before.

It filled her up with wonderment and ecstasy, and she fairly floated across the cool, hardwood floor to drape herself over Caine’s shoulders.

“Morning,” she said, dropping a kiss onto his neck, just above his brand.

Far from being startled, Caine actually leaned back into the pressure and turned his head to smile at her.

“Morning, Majesty.”

He’d heard her coming. Of course he’d heard her coming.

“Anything interesting?” she asked, peering over his shoulder at the scattering of envelopes and data pads covering the small counter.

“There’s a report from Kiza,” said Caine. “She has six princesses ready to start new hives. They can be ready to ship within days.”

“Mmm, that’s good,” said Jupiter. “Better notify Captain Tsing. I’ll be giving one to the Aegis anyway. And one to General Toren. The other three I’ll have Chicanery distribute among the most bee-friendly of my other planets.”

“That’s five,” Caine pointed out.

“Yeah,” said Jupiter, resting her head against his shoulder. He’d picked up some freckles during his time on Earth: delicate, pinkish things that nonetheless stood out against his pale skin. They dusted the swell of his arms, and were perhaps the cutest things Jupiter had ever seen. At least that morning.

What were they talking about? Oh right, the sixth hive.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” she said, absently tracing a finger around the freckles. “I’m going to give one to Kalique.”

Caine’s only reaction was to remain perfectly still, which was a reaction in of itself. But all he said was: “Are you sure?”

“I think so,” sighed Jupiter. “I guess I just feel… I can’t compete with these people, you know? Not in the way they lie and scheme and stuff. Maybe in a hundred years—maybe. But even then, I don’t want to _be_ that kind of person. Even if I had it in me, which I’m not sure I do.”

“You are the recurrence of Seraphi Abrasax,” Caine pointed out. “And by all accounts she was—”

“But I’m _not_ Seraphi Abrasax,” Jupiter said, and she knew it was true. “I’ve got her genes, sure, but genes aren’t all there is to a person. There’s experiences and… and _life._ Maybe we’re built off the same basic model, but I’ve come out differently. If I’ve got her evil streak, it runs in a different direction.”

“Oh?” said Caine.

For answer, Jupiter dragged her nails over his bare skin, up over his shoulder and neck, and pinched his ear.

“ _Oh,_ ” said Caine.

“So, I’m not gonna play their game,” said Jupiter, leaning forward to kiss the ear she had just pinched. “I’m gonna pretend Kalique is telling the truth. And if she’s telling the truth, she deserves to have a shot at this.”

“You know she’s not telling you the truth,” Caine pointed out. “Not the whole truth, anyway.”

“I know,” said Jupiter. “That’s why I’m just gonna _pretend._ And if she really wants me to trust her, she’ll have to play along. Maybe if we both pretend long enough, it’ll even come true.”

Caine made a dubious noise, which turned into a groan as Jupiter licked the shell of his ear.

“That reminds me,” he said, slightly breathless, and bent down to retrieve a small priority mail box from beside the counter. “This came yesterday. I believe it contains something relative to our interests.”

Jupiter squinted at the address, and felt a flush rise in her cheeks as she realized what it must contain.

“Yeah,” she said. “That’s, um… those are for you. Except there’s one thing in there I need to wrap. So… um…” she snaked a hand around and snagged the box. “When you said you’d let me… you know…” She cleared her throat.

“Fuck me?” Caine said, a smile curling one side of his mouth and _oh_ Jupiter could totally take an eternity of this. She absolutely could.

“Yeah,” she said. “We call it pegging.”

“Pegging,” Caine repeated, and laughed a little. “How creative.”

“Well, anyway,” said Jupiter. “When you said you were up for it I took the liberty of ordering some… supplies.”

Fewer supplies that she would have needed, had she not been wishfully collecting harness-compatible dildos since her twentieth birthday.

Caine twisted around on his seat, pulling her into his lap. His leather trousers felt rough under her bare thighs, but the friction was delightful.

“Really? Now I’m curious,” he said, his eyes practically _sparkling._

And she hadn’t even had breakfast yet— _good god._

Still, what she was hoping to do required no small amount of lead time, so it was just as well.

“Let me,” she said, prying the box away from him. “And then you can have your new toys.” She kissed him on the forehead and slid off his lap to positively skip across the room.

Which was how Jupiter Jones ended up passing the morning in her bathrobe, eating cold cereal and awkwardly explaining what the lava lamp-shaped rubber objects were as Caine pulled progressively larger and larger ones out of the box. Then he got to the douching kit and Jupiter had to stop eating entirely while she explained how _that_ worked.

She’d gotten about halfway through the talk about proper anal care and preparation she wished _her_ first boyfriend had given her when she caught Caine looking at her with that cheeky, twinkling expression that had been so rare—but was becoming less so as the weeks went by.

“What?” she asked, trying to keep the blush from rising in her face.

“Nothing,” said Caine, but he was smiling. “Only… I _have_ done this before.”

“You…” Jupiter began, and felt her mind begin to melt.

Caine nodded.

“You could have _said,_ ” she sputtered.

Caine looked abashed, and dropped his head.

“I suppose I… like hearing you talk about it?” he said, hesitantly. “You’re very… uh…It feels a bit like you’re giving me orders.”

He’d been on the verge of calling her cute, Jupiter realized, and felt like her heart had grown wings and was trying to flutter out of her chest. She reigned it in, however, and schooled her burning face into what she hoped was a stern expression.

“Oh, and you want orders, do you?” she said, and now her heart was properly pounding. A part of her said it was too early in the morning for this. Another part was cackling delightedly and reveling in how much _better_ than coffee this was.

Jaw clenched, Caine nodded vigorously.

“Okay then,” said Jupiter, and discovered she was breathing hard. “In that case, Caine Wise, I order you to take that into the bathroom and… and”—this was awkward and awful and also awesome— _“_ and… and _prepare_ yourself. Then you’re gonna put one of those plugs in and wear it for the next two hours.”

Caine swallowed visibly, his pupils gone dark and wide.

“Which one?” he asked, hoarsely.

Jupiter’s mind felt flummoxed for a moment, then she saw the answer was obvious.

“The biggest one you can take,” she said, realizing that, if he’d done this before, he’d at least have some idea of what his natural limits were.

“Yes, Majesty,” Caine choked out. He gathered up the box and fairly sprinted into the bathroom. The door slammed, followed by the sound of running water.

Meanwhile Jupiter sat in the kitchen and tried not to have a heart attack.

The thought of Caine wandering around the apartment wearing a butt plug was making her so aroused it was difficult to see straight. Forget him, how was _she_ going to survive for two hours?

The solution she hit upon was to give Caine a bath.

A bubble bath.

“I don’t understand,” Caine said, standing naked and perplexed in the bathroom doorway. “I already cleaned myself.”

“Inside, yes, but did you get your outside?” Jupiter pointed out.

Caine got a hunted look on his face.

“What?” asked Jupiter. “Don’t you like bathes?”

Now his face was going red. He looked deeply unhappy, and it occurred to her that if something had happened to make Caine not want to do something even if she ordered him, it must have been pretty bad.

“Okay,” she said, doing some metal reconfiguring. “How about I get in the tub and _you_ wash _me?_ ”

Caine perked up immediately, and Jupiter grinned as she shrugged out of her bathrobe and underwear, slipped off the old t-shirt she’d slept in, and got into the warm, foamy water.

“So get to it,” she said, flicking a bubble at him.

Caine came and knelt by the tub, wincing a little as he settled onto his knees.

“Let me guess,” said Jupiter, wryly. “You took the biggest one.”

A brief, smug grin flitted over Caine’s face, turning to a smile of apology as he dipped his hands into the sudsy water and began gently massaging it into Jupiter’s shoulders.

“Better you than me,” Jupiter sighed, leaning into his hands. A wash cloth or a sponge would probably have been more effective, but for the moment she was happy to exalt in the sensation of warm, wet fingers sliding over her skin, feeling the occasional scrape of a blunt nail or his calloused palms.

“Have you ever…?” Caine began, leaving the question unfinished. Jupiter filled in the blanks and sighed.

“A couple times,” she said, and made a face. “It wasn’t… well. I was young and dumb and so was he. It didn’t go well.”

“I am sorry,” said Caine. Those were his words. His tone said “I could hunt him down and hurt him if you wanted me too.” Jupiter took both meanings and smiled as she raised a hand to press a wet finger against his nose.

“It’s okay,” she said. “I just hope your previous experience was better than mine.”

Caine got a funny look, like fondness and wretchedness were at war with each other across his face. He settled for a wry smile as he took up the sponge and went to work on Jupiter’s feet.

“I was young… and dumb,” he said after a while. “Luckily, my partner wasn’t.”

“She was good to you?” Jupiter asked. She was struggling with her own conflicting feelings now: she’d been carefully not thinking about whatever previous experience Caine had had, but she’d always assumed there had _been_ experiences. They were both adults, after all (hell, Caine was practically twice her age). Now she had confirmation of one, however, she wasn’t sure whether she felt jealous, or hopeful that it had been a good one. Caine had been through enough shit, she felt he deserved every piece of happiness he could get.

She was so wrapped up in her own turmoil of thoughts that she nearly missed Caine’s whispered correction.

“He, actually,” he said, working a corner of the sponge between her toes.

Jupiter felt her eyes widen as she looked down at him, only to find he was staring back at her, almost challengingly.

Challenging her to do what, she wasn’t sure. Be shocked? Be appalled? Ask who it was?

And, okay, that _was_ a surprise, but eventually she decided to do none of those things. Rather, she took the correction and carried on.

“Oh,” she said, perhaps a little too casually but whatever. Better than running screaming or starting salivate and demanding raunchy details. “So… _was_ he good to you?”

Caine looked down at her feet, his expression unreadable.

“It ended… badly,” he said after a time. “But… for what it was—while it lasted—it was a good thing. Yes.”

“I’m glad,” said Jupiter, and to her surprise, she meant it. Lazily she extended her other foot so it was easier for Caine to reach. “I mean, I’m sorry it ended badly. That sucks. But some relationships are like that, I think. They don’t last, or they go down the toilet, but while they were a thing it was a _good_ thing. And that’s gotta be worth something on its own. Sorry, I’m babbling.”

Caine had stopped his ministrations and was just holding her foot, stroking along the arch in a way that made her shiver. He looked thoughtful, and a little sad, but after a time he smiled weakly and nodded.

He let go of her foot, and Jupiter was just about to protest when, after taking a deep breath, he crawled into the bath on top of her.

“Caine!”

Water sloshed, bubbles spilled onto the floor. Caine groaned softly and settled himself between her legs, his hands running up her sides to ghost over her breasts and then down over her belly. It made her feel warm inside, and entirely comfortable with being squished up against the cool tile of the bathroom wall. She giggled.

“I thought you didn’t like bathes,” she said.

Caine gave her a sheepish look. 

“They’re not so bad, when you’re in them,” he admitted.

That also made her feel warm, but in a different way.

“I can make it even better,” she said propping herself up on her elbows and nosing into his face.

Caine hovered there, breathless, not closing the distance. Jupiter kissed him lightly, almost playfully, and said, “Turn around.”

This was easier said than done, but Caine managed it—spilling almost half the bath water in the process—and sat with his knees in his chest while Jupiter washed the narrow strip of back she could reach between his wings, sliding the cloth up to rub gently behind his ears.

“I’m not sure what to do with these,” she admitted, running a hand over his tightly folded right wing. It shuddered under her touch, and automatically opened for her, the feathers partially extended from their neatly nested arrangement.

“Oh, uh…” said Caine, awkwardly. There was a strange thickness in his voice that made Jupiter pause, but then the wing unfolded further, presenting more feathers to her. “You can… uh… preen them. If… if you want.”

Jupiter forced her hands to remain settled on Caine’s waist, safely under the water.

“Do you want, Caine?” she asked, quietly.

Caine twisted his head around and she saw that his eyes were practically burning with longing.

“Yes,” he said, hoarsely. “Please?”

For answer, Jupiter threaded her fingers under the nearest feather—one of the shorter ones that provided support for the longer, flight feathers. She found a spot where the fine filaments that made up the feather had come apart, creating an unsightly tear. Gently she brought her fingers to the quill of the feather and drew the two pieces together, pressing firmly so they stuck.

“Like this?” she asked.

“ _Yes,_ ” Caine breathed, and slumped forward, his shoulders sagging to bring his wings further into Jupiter’s reach.

It was strange, but of all the things they’d done, Jupiter had seldom felt more intimate and connected than she did sitting in the cooling bath water, meticulously going over Caine’s wings. Perhaps it was the tiny shudders that went through him whenever she moved to a new feather, or the way she had time to map out the faint scattering of freckles that dusted the back of his neck, or just the simple act of _grooming._ Taking the ruffled and ragged pieces of him and putting them back together, good as new.

There were a lot of feathers. Jupiter came to know each one intimately in the time it took her to thoroughly explore both of Caine’s wings, by which time the bath water had gone cold and all the bubbles collapsed.

Caine remained, sitting in the tub, as Jupiter got out and toweled off. When she extended her hands to help him up, she found him looking at her with a piercingly open, unguarded expression. There lingered still a disbelieving crease in his brow—perhaps it would never truly go away—but his eyes were filled with wonder and hope and Jupiter could only smile down at him.

“Come on,” she said softly. “Let’s get you dried off.”

He moved fluidly, almost languidly, under her hands as she guided him out of the tub. He stood patiently, his head bowed, as she carefully dried his shoulders and arms, his torso and his back. She lingered on his ass a little longer than was perhaps necessary, pressing a finger briefly into the flared base of the plug, tucked between his buttocks. He shivered slightly and sucked in a breath.

Jupiter grinned to herself as she continued to work her way down, over his sweetly curving thighs and what felt like miles of leg. On her way back up she pressed the towel gently against his groin, eliciting a soft groan.

“Sorry,” she said, backing her hand off. He was still soft, fully retracted inside his sheath from the cold water, but apparently just as sensitive as always.

There was a hand on her elbow, another on her shoulder; gentle, warm weights which didn’t clench or grab, but they were trembling slightly.

“Majesty,” Caine whispered, bending his neck so their faces were almost touching. His breath was warm in her hair as he spoke. “Can we…? Please.”

He sounded almost as though he expected a reprimand. Jupiter looked up into eyes that were alight with arousal but also tinged with apprehension, and found the only response she had was to kiss him.

Long and lazy and slow, there was still that moment at the beginning when his lips were motionless against hers. But then they yielded, his mouth opening like the gateway to a warm and welcoming haven, and Jupiter slipped her tongue inside like she was sinking into the hot bath all over again. His skin tasted faintly of soap, but the inside of his mouth was still that delicious mix of sweet, earthy spices and electric stardust, and Jupiter licked across the roof of his mouth, greedily trying to take his essence into her. 

She got her wish a second later, when his own tongue came to life and returned the favor, and by that point it was all she could do to grab his neck and hold on.

The towel was dropped in the process, and a little while later his hands found their way to her waist, and then lower, and then he’d picked her up and was holding her against him, skin to heated skin, as she continued to plunder his mouth.

“Not yet,” she gasped, when at last she pulled away. “You’re not ready. Not yet.”

Caine whined, but she only worked her hands up to tug roughly at the short hair at the base of his neck. This was a little difficult, more like a pinch than anything, but it had the desired effect of causing him to tilt his head back, baring his throat invitingly.

“Take me to bed,” she mumbled into his neck. “You can open your present now.”

They stumbled out of the bathroom together, barely clearing the door, but Caine didn’t stop kissing her until they crashed into the bed. There he stopped, holding her up with one arm while his other hand cupped her head and he kissed her like his mouth was the only thing keeping her anchored on the ground.

It might as well have been, for all Jupiter felt like she was floating, gone weightless in his arms. But she hadn’t lost sight of the overall goal.

“Sit, Caine,” she gasped in a breathy whisper.

She felt him grinning into the side of her face, and then he spun around, sinking down onto the bed with a soft groan and settling Jupiter carefully in his lap. She put her hands on his wide, pale chest and pushed, sending him slowly down onto his back. Planting an arm on either side of his face, effectively pinning him (his own arms lay spread on either side, his hands grasping the sheets), she stroked his ears, his cheeks, kissing the skin where her hands had been.

“Stay,” she whispered, and before he had a chance to protest she crawled off him, scrambling to the edge of the bed and hanging her upper half off it as she felt around for the shoebox she’d stuck his present in. As far as wrappings went it wasn’t anything special, but then, she knew Caine would appreciate the gift no matter what it was packed in.

At least, she was reasonably certain. Pretty darn sure, anyway. Though she still had some odd butterflies in her stomach when she returned, sitting cross-legged next to him on the bed, and put the box into his outstretched hand.

Caine looked over in surprise and shrugged himself into an upright position. He’d grown harder during their journey from the bathroom, and his eyes were beginning to fog over. They sharpened at sight of the box, however, and he gave opening it the same grave attention he did everything else Jupiter asked him to do. She wondered, briefly, if it was because it was her, or because that was just the way he did things. Either way, she found it adorable.

“You get me too many presents,” he muttered, pulling aside the tissue paper inside the box.

“I enjoy it,” Jupiter chided him. “And so do you, I think.”

Caine glanced up at her, his face so bright and pleased Jupiter was momentarily stunned. It was as if she’d just given him permission to eat the entire ice cream section at the local convenience store.

Then he returned to the box, and a moment later he was staring at her with a similarly awestruck expression.

“You didn’t have to,” he whispered.

Now it was Jupiter’s turn to grin beatifically. “I know,” she said. “But I wanted to. This one’s nicer, anyway. And I thought, I thought it’d be fitting. I hope it fits, too.”

Caine gave her a crooked sort of smile as he lifted the circlet of black leather out of the box. The collar looked thin and delicate in his hands, even though it was strongly made with a hefty metal ring attached to the front. The black was offset by red stitching, and all around, inlayed in matching leather, were little crimson hearts. He stroked a thumb over them, enraptured, and then, with a hesitancy that made Jupiter cry inside, held it out to her.

She didn’t need to hear the words this time: the request was written plainly on his beseeching face. She took the collar and placed it around his neck. It did fit—on the largest setting. Though Jupiter suspected Caine could handle it being pulled tighter, she decided not to push him. This wasn’t about pushing him—not tonight. For all what they were about to do would have been too much for any of Jupiter’s previous boyfriends, it was precisely why Caine wanted. So, Jupiter decided, she would give him what he needed—even if he couldn’t yet manage to ask for it.

Trailing her fingers lightly over the seam between the collar and his skin, she let her index finger trace the ridges of his brand where it peeked from under the leather, pressing her sign into his flesh. She leaned in and kissed his jaw, letting her lips slid down over his pulse.

“I want you to wear this as much as you can,” she whispered against his neck.

“Yes, Majesty,” came the response. Too quickly. Jupiter frowned and pulled away.

“I mean, I want you to wear it as much as you’re comfortable with,” she said, giving him a serious look.

Caine just looked confused. Jupiter sighed. They’d come a long way together, but they weren’t quite across the bridge yet.

“Don’t get me wrong, it looks good on you,” she said. “I like looking at it. On you. But… but that’s not the reason I want you to wear it. I want you to wear it, so you’ll be reminded, wherever you go, that you’re not alone—that you belong to someone—and…” She swallowed, resting a finger against one of the hearts. “…And that that someone loves you.”

Caine let out a surprised breath, and stared at her like she’d just grown horns. Wonder and amazement and disbelief and fear and ecstasy surged across his face in turn, then swirled together into an agonized expression—as if no one had ever…

As if _she’d_ never…

But she had told him, hadn’t she? In all the months they’d been together. She had to have told him that she loved him. Surely she had.

In actions, maybe. Gestures. Kindnesses. 

But not in words, apparently, Jupiter realized as Caine’s eyes grew impossibly wider. They were so bright and pale, she could almost understand what Stinger meant by “half-albino.”

“Oh my god,” she whispered, and put a hand on his cheek to steady him. He leaned into her touch, and she felt a part of her heart unclench. “Caine, Caine I love you. I know there’s no not-cheesy way to say this, but I do love you. So much.”

Caine just shut his eyes, as if this was simultaneously the best and worst thing he’d ever heard. Gently, Jupiter drew him toward her, pressing his face into her chest and encircling his neck with her arms.

“You don’t have to say anything,” she whispered, hearing him take a shuddering breath against her throat. “Just listen. You’ve showed me so many amazing things, and out of all the space ships and stars and planets and just… crazy stuff… _you_ are the most amazing, the most beautiful thing. You make me actually feel as special as people keep saying I am. You make me feel powerful. Like I really _am_ some space princess queen thing. _You_ do that, Caine. And I love you.”

Caine writhed under her grasp and pulled away. His face was red with unshed tears, and his mouth was open, trembling, struggling with words that would not come.

“M-majesty,” he managed at last. “Jupiter?” His breath gusted wetly over her neck, and the sound of her name made her shiver.

“Yes?”

“Please,” he breathed, pressing his forehead to hers, eyes still closed. “Please, Majesty, _please…_ ”

“Please what, Caine?” she asked.

He moaned—sobbed, really—and the next word came out as a long, thin, whine: “ _Pleee-aase,_ please, please, please _fuck me._ ”

And damn if that didn’t shove all the tension in her heart down to her belly. For a moment Jupiter thought she might grow a dick right then and there, she was so turned on. To make matters worse, now that Caine had gotten the words out they wouldn’t stop coming.

“Please, please fuck me, I need you to—I want you to—” Turning his head against hers, pleading, begging…

Jupiter clasped his head in her hands and shushed him, pressing feather kisses across his brow. “Shh, Caine. Not yet, you’re still not ready.”

He did cry then, one anguished, broken sob. Jupiter stopped him with a firm kiss right on his mouth. 

“Don’t worry,” she reassured him. “We’ll get there. I promise. I’ll take care of you, Caine. Just let me… I’ll take care of everything…” She slid a hand between them as she spoke and meaningfully stroked the rigid length which had grown between them. “We have time,” she reminded him, as he moaned blissfully into her mouth.

Delicately, as though he was the fragile human being, Jupiter laid him down on the bed, arranging the pillows so his shoulders were supported, and spread herself next to him—but reversed, so that she could reach his dick, which was bright red and straining for attention.

Caine went perfectly still when she licked a wet stripe from his balls to the bulging head of his cock. She felt one of his hands clutch briefly at her hip, then settle, as though he were grounding himself in her presence. In response, she reached out and grabbed the corresponding place on his leg, digging her nails in sharply.

“I’m gonna fuck you, Caine,” she said, between messy slides of her mouth over his dick. Around the shudders that coursed through his body. “’M gonna fuck you so hard you forget everything except my name. Gonna make you scream it, beg for more. Gonna fuck you like you wouldn’t believe, Caine. And you’re gonna _love_ it.”

She had to stop there, because dirty-talking and dick-sucking were mutually exclusive, sadly, and she really want to have him in her mouth. It was one of her favorite things to do since they’d cleared the last barrage of test and gone full fluid-bonded, since she could _taste_ him as she got him off.

Caine was interesting in that his flavor changed the closer he got to his climax—to the point that Jupiter could tell when he was about to come better than he could, just from how he tasted. Add to that the fact that there was none of the hair-pulling and face-pounding that she’d had to put up with in the past; Caine just lay there and took it, and wouldn’t grab her head unless she told him to.

Now, for instance, there was one hand on her hip but the other was clenched in the sheets, and he was trembling with the effort of not thrusting up into her face. Jupiter appreciated that, since it allowed her better control as she worked her mouth over his long, hard cock. He tasted sharply pungent as she took his head into her mouth, twined her tongue around it, but there was a growing sweet aftertaste that told her he was getting closer.

Propping herself on her elbows to free her hands, Jupiter clasped one on his shaft, below her mouth, while the other pressed firmly into his balls.

Behind her, Caine groaned breathily, and she felt a flush of juices—precome—fill her mouth.

And there it was—the sweet and sour combination that said now, _now_ —

Jupiter laid her tongue along Caine’s cock and took it as far down as she could manage, closing both hands around the remaining length and pumping forcefully: up, and down, and up—

“Majesty, I—”

He couldn’t get the words out in time before Jupiter felt the telltale ripple under her hands, and then he was coming, flooding her mouth with his hot, sweet seed. Jupiter felt her eyes begin to water as she swallowed it down, sucking greedily at the end of his cock. She could feel his knot growing under her hands and she closed them firmly around it as she finished him off, licking away the spilled come and panting a little against his shaft.

She wanted, desperately, to kiss him. She was hungry for the taste of him, the feel of him under her mouth, but it was such an awkward thing to do. She liked tasting herself in his mouth, but she didn’t if know he’d feel the same way. She got the feeling most guys didn’t.

Caine was not most guys, however, as he’d proved over and over again, and she found herself sliding around to drape herself over his torso, cradling his head as he started up at her, dazed but still aroused.

She leaned forward slowly, giving him time to turn away, fully aware there was a drop of his come running down her chin.

Instead she felt the enveloping warmth of his hands on the back of her head, and with a needy whine he surged upwards, covering her mouth with his own, forcing her jaw open and plunging inside like she was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

No hesitation whatsoever; just pure, unbridled _need._ Jupiter was so stunned she felt her mouth go lax, surrendering herself to the onslaught that was Caine Wise on a mission to map the inside of her mouth with his tongue. 

It was possibly the most glorious thing, and when he moaned against her in pained bliss it felt like she’d been given her very own pair of wings. She must have been, she thought, because this felt like flying.

Caine let her go at last and she drew in a satisfied breath.

“Now,” she said, grinning triumphantly. “Now you’re ready.”

“I am?” he said, uncertainly.

“Mmm,” Jupiter hummed, dragging her mouth down over his chin, licking at his neck. “Well, _almost_ ready. Why don’t you go take this out”—she pressed one hand briefly to the cleft of his ass, where she could feel the base of the plug, still securely fitted inside him—“and I’ll get _my_ stuff ready.”

Caine groaned as he dragged himself into a sitting position, one hand going to cover his knot.

“Or we could wait, if it’s too uncomfortable—” Jupiter began, suddenly uncertain herself. She couldn’t be sure, not have a dick-with-a-knot of her own, but she suspected Caine’s experiences post-climax were a little like her own: not quite a full refractory period, but not fully turned on, either. She really needed to ask him about that. One day.

“No,” Caine growled, pushing off the bed and stumbling toward the bathroom. “No more waiting.”

One wing had come partly unfolded, and he yanked it in as he pulled the door open and disappeared inside.

He was occupied for a surprisingly long time. It gave Jupiter the opportunity to dig out her harness, her bullet vibe, not to mention the lube, and set out her entire collection of dildos, in a line, on the bed, before he returned. 

When he saw the line of silicone phalluses that awaited him he stopped dead and stared. His own dick had gone soft, but he eyed the lineup with open anticipation on his face.

“One of the perks of being fucked by a girl,” Jupiter said, hiding her nerves behind a cheerful grin. “You get to pick the dick!”

That got a snort of laughter. Caine came and knelt in front of the bed, looking over the assembled dildos with serious appraisal.

It was a good collection, if Jupiter said so herself. Five strong, it ran the gamut from her more-or-less realistic Mustang, to the bright pink eye-killer that was the Boss and its gently wavy shaft. Then there was the boldly curved Siren, which was purple and a little sparkly, upstaged only by the unapologetically golden Leo, with his long, thick shaft and fat head. Yet of all these characters it was the Mistress that Caine gravitated toward, regarding the elegant, black dildo with inquisitive eagerness.

“I was thinking we could work our way through them,” Jupiter said, just to break the silence. “You know, see which one you like best. So just… pick whichever one you’d like to start with.”

Caine shot her an amused look, and made a show of picking up each dildo and turning them over in his hands, sniffing them, and then— _oh god no_ —putting them in his mouth.

Jupiter swallowed, and found her own mouth had gone dry.

When he’d been over each one Caine folded his arms on the bed and frowned, still undecided.

“May I ask,” he said, giving her a sly look from under one eyebrow, “which is _your_ favorite?”

Jupiter giggled. “It doesn’t really matter to me,” she admitted. “As long as you like it.”

“No,” said Caine. “I mean, which one do _you_ like best?”

“Oh, you mean for… uh… on myself?” Jupiter asked.

A nod.

“Um… well.” She licked her lips. “I suppose it… depends? Like, Leo—that’s the gold one—is kinda big. I have to work up to him. So is Boss—that’s the pink one—but wider. Mustang and Mistress are just… really good. They’re the brown one and the black one. And Siren—she’s the purple one with sparkles—is… okay, I guess Siren is my favorite. She’s got that, uh… curve, you see.”

“Yes, I can see that.”

“And the… uh… the head area…”

Caine was smiling fondly now, and he drew a finger gently across Siren’s bulging head.

“She looks a little like me,” he said, quietly.

“Kinda… yeah. I guess,” Jupiter laughed, nervously. “That shape… um. It works for me. Like, really, _really_ well. But I’m not sure it’d be the same for you. Butts are different from vaginas.”

Caine nodded gravely, but he picked up Siren—and Mistress—and weighed them against each other in his hands.

“Remember, this is just to start,” Jupiter reminded him. “I’m gonna fuck you with all these dicks eventually—I mean, if you want me too—so, like, no pressure.”

Caine smiled at her like she’d just wrapped up the sun and handed it to him. It was such a rare thing to see on his face it left her breathless, and yet it suited him. It certainly dazzled her, so that she hardly registered which dildo he pressed into her hand until she looked down and saw it was Mistress.

“Good choice,” she said, closing her hand around it. With an ungracious sweep she knocked the rejected dildos off the bed, reaching forward to hook a finger through the D-ring of Caine’s collar and pull him up beside her.

He came and lay carefully on his side, but kept himself propped on his elbows so their heads were more or less even. He was looking at her expectantly, almost yearningly, his neck outstretched and his eyes half-shuttered.

He was staring at her mouth, Jupiter realized, and couldn’t resist a teasing grin and she leaned forward into his space—but didn’t close the distance.

“Do you want to kiss me, Caine?” she whispered.

She saw his pink lips part, felt his warm breath as he sighed, “ _Yes._ ”

She leaned back a little; a small challenge. 

“Go ahead,” she said, still grinning.

It was a different experience, waiting for Caine to come to her, but a good one. He hesitated once, his hand on the back of her neck, then pulled himself in and then it was all the best familiar sensations: soft lips and a warm, wet tongue and behind it all the taste of stardust. Jupiter felt herself melting into it, breathing in his air and sucking lazily on his lower lip.

Caine kissed her, and kissed her, and Jupiter knew that she had at one time had plans for what they were going to do, but those had gone vague and distant; fallen behind a warm curtain of pleasure.

Caine had both hands tangled in her hair by the time he stopped, and then he didn’t pull away entirely—only enough so they could breathe heavily into each other’s faces. He kept his eyes downcast, and Jupiter pressed a kiss high on his cheek to get him to lift his gaze.

With her free hand she traced the shell of his ear and rolled the tip gently between her fingers.

“That’s a good boy,” she said, and got another face-clobbering kiss as a result.

This time, however, Jupiter drove back, and Caine gave way. She pushed him down onto the bed, straddled his torso and fumbled for her harness. She only broke the kiss when getting the Mistress settled in the O-ring required her full attention.

Caine gasped at the loss of contact, but perked up immediately when he saw the reason for it. She couldn’t help grinning at him shamelessly as she worked the dildo’s flared base through the rubber ring, then slid off the bed entirely to pull the harness on.

And if it fit perfectly, and if Jupiter slipped her bullet vibe into its pocket without looking, well… maybe all those wistful solo sessions humping a pillow had not been so pathetic after all. It meant she was able to move right along to the next part of her mission: rolling Caine onto his side and folding him in half, so she could get at his ass.

She felt light-headed and airy, like her chest was filled with bees. Every part of her was alive with excitement, and a strange anticipation that was very different from anything she’d ever felt.

Jupiter preferred being in control when it came to sex as a rule of thumb, and sex with Caine had always been like that. This time, however, he was almost entirely at her mercy; she could be as rough or tender as she liked—it was all up to her. And the mere realization of that was enough to set her head spinning and her hands shaking as she cupped the cheeks of Caine’s ass and nudged them gently apart.

She wasn’t the only one shaking: Caine was twitching under her hands, shudders that ran from his shoulders to his feet, which were drawn up onto the bed in front of him. It was difficult to tell from this angle, but Jupiter was fairly certainly he’d gotten hard again.

She licked her palm and reached over his hip to confirm her suspicions, and hummed in approval when she found him half erect and growing harder under her hand.

Squeezing out a generous dollop of lube onto her other hand, she rubbed it gently into the cleft of his ass, letting the gel warm before she stroked gently inside him with her index finger.

She found him as soft and giving as ever, his ass yielding as sweetly as his mouth, his muscles fluttering around her finger as he groaned desperately into the bedsheets.

“Good?” Jupiter asked. It felt a little strange, doing this to someone else. She could only guess at what would feel good, and she felt a little blind, lacking the immediate feedback of “too much” or “need more.”

“ _Ye-es…_ ” Caine moaned, the words half eaten by the bed but their meaning loud and clear. He was desperately hard now, his hips jerking slightly as if he were trying to fuck himself on Jupiter’s hand.

“More?” she asked.

“ _Please._ ” It came out as a gasp.

Feeling marginally more confident, Jupiter slipped her middle finger inside, probing deeper as she stroked his cock distractedly.

He felt—well, he felt amazing. Incredibly hot and smooth and soft and so slick—some of it, she guessed, left over from the lube he’d used to ease the plug in. The thought of the plug reminded her how comparatively small her fingers were, and she drove further into him until her knuckles hit his taint. Then she twisted her hand—Caine whined, gloriously—so she could curl her fingers inside him and stroke down and—

Caine made a noise like someone had punched him and he twitched violently.

“Is that what I think it is?” Jupiter asked, feeling a satisfied curl of flame in her belly.

“ _Uhhgh…_ ” said Caine, momentarily lost for words.

Jupiter hummed to herself, drew out so she could add a third finger, and wriggled the better part of her hand inside.

It felt like sinking into slick, satiny heat, alternatively tight and giving as Caine clenched and relaxed around her. He was moaning continuously now, a long stream of “ _Please, please, please, please…_ ” that ran together into pants and whines, punctuated by sharp, keening noises whenever Jupiter brushed against his sweet spot.

It was enough to make her feel a stab of momentary penis envy. To be able to feel _this_ with a more sensitive part of her anatomy was—well, it held a certain appeal. Jupiter supposed the next best thing would be her tongue, but she didn’t quite have the courage. Not yet.

So she contented herself with exploring him with her fingers. He must have been consciously relaxing himself for her, she realized, when she got all four of her fingers inside, spreading them a little so they held him open. Then she sank in deeper, swept her fingers forward, and found her hand suddenly compressed with incredible force as Caine let out another one of his gut-punch gasps.

He was flushed so brightly pink, the muscles around his hole fluttering against her hand, his skin shining from both the lube and the precome which had begun to weep from his dick, trickling down over his balls. Jupiter wiped up as much of it as she could gather with her free hand, working it into his crack and pushing it inside him and…

It did wonders for Jupiter’s courage. Really.

“Fuck, Caine,” she murmured, dipping her head and pressing her face into one perfect, creamy buttock. He smelled cleanly of lube and soap, mostly, but under that was the strong, thick scent of him: musky and salty and warm. She bit at the cool skin, felt him tremble under her hands, and then dragged her still-open mouth down between his cheeks, drawing him open with her fingers so she could lick around the rim.

“Ooh- _oh!_ ” Caine inhaled sharply, gasping the word out, and Jupiter chuckled as she boldly thrust her tongue into him, stroking and curling it against his inner walls—the same way he did to her that sent tingles up her spine.

Caine let out a muffled sound like a sob, his face turned into the mattress.

Reluctantly Jupiter raised her head, dropping kisses across his ass as she did so, and rested her chin on his hip. She left two of her fingers inside him, curling gently, while her other hand resumed stroking his dick.

“What was that?” she asked.

Caine pulled his head out of the bed enough to let the string of “ _Please, please, please, please…_ ” become audible.

“Please what, Caine?” Jupiter asked. “You don’t have to beg, just tell me what you want.”

“I want—” Caine gasped, swallowing the following words. He shook his head, as if trying to clear it. Jupiter twisted her fingers inside him, and saw his eyes open in surprise even as they rolled back in their sockets.

“I _want,_ ” he tried again, “I _need_ you to fuck me now. Please, Jupiter—Majesty… just…” He screwed his face up, a muscle tightening in his cheek. “Just fuck me, please…”

“You sure you’re ready?” Jupiter asked, easing his left leg up so she could work it around, turning him so he lay on his back. Though he went easily enough, he kept his head turned aside, only dragging his face around when he answered her question.

“To be honest?” he said, sounding surprisingly lucid for how wrecked he looked (his brow was streaked with sweat and his eyes were unusually bright from all the unshed tears). He took a shaky breath. “I’ve been ready since I gave you my gun.”

Jupiter blinked in surprise. “At the refinery, or before…?”

“Before,” Caine said simply, smiling bashfully.

Jupiter raised her eyebrows.

“Not literally,” he added, a tiny crease appearing between his brows. “But… I guess… I guess I feel like I’ve been looking for you my whole life.” He laid one of his big hands over hers where it rested on his cock, the warmth of it encompassing her hand. “Just took me a while to realize what I’d found and… and I know I don’t deserve this… I don’t—”

“Ah, ah,” said Jupiter, extricating her hand from under his and reaching forward to place a moist finger against his mouth. “You don’t get to say that anymore. ’Cause it’s not true.”

Caine just looked at her, confused and concerned.

Jupiter leaned into him and said, earnestly, willing the words to sink in: “I don’t know who put these stupid ideas in your head, Caine, but they’re _wrong,_ okay? You’re not bad for thinking them, but they. Are. _Wrong._ You deserve this—this and everything I can give you. _Fuck,_ Caine, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, you know that, right?”

Caine just closed his eyes, nodded once.

“That’s why… that’s why you’re getting fucked today, Caine. You _earned_ this.”

Caine moaned.

“Now,” said Jupiter, finally removing her fingers. “How do you want to take me?”

Caine licked his lips, but didn’t open his eyes.

“This is good,” he whispered.

“Good,” said Jupiter. “This works for me, too.”

It really did. Caine was spread out before her like an offering; his legs apart and his arms out, leaving himself as open and vulnerable as could be. His cock was dark red and weeping, standing out vibrantly against his pale skin, and his chest rose and fell visibly as Jupiter folded his legs back so she could line herself up.

Taking another palmful of lube she wiped it messily over Mistress, and pressed the head gently against his entrance. She looked up so she could see his face as she entered him, and found his eyes had drifted open and he was gazing at her smolderingly.

“Remember, you deserve this,” Jupiter said, and pressed inside.

Caine’s eyes closed even as his mouth opened in a soundless groan and his head fell back, exposing his collared throat.

Jupiter felt herself sinking into him, and braced herself on his hips to prevent him bucking up onto her. She wanted to savor this, the first, delicious descent as she sheathed herself in him, drinking in his stammered gasps and moans and little whines.

When she was fully seated at last she slipped a hand into her harness and turned on the vibrator, groaning herself as she felt a molten pool of pleasure spill into her center.

“You… _earned_ this,” she breathed, pulling out just as slowly.

Caine pressed his mouth shut, but it didn’t stop the moan from forcing its way out of him.

“This is for the clinic,” Jupiter said, easing back into him in a long, slow slide that made his shoulders go lax and his mouth drop open. She pulled gently out, almost to the tip, and then stopped.

“This is for Chicago,” she said, angling his hips up so she was certain to brush against his prostate on the way back in.

Caine groaned, rough and low. His chest was heaving and he’d fisted his hands in the sheets.

“This is for Cerise,” she said, beginning to move a hair faster now. “This is for Titus.”

Caine gasped, his hands coming up to rest over hers.

“ _This_ is for the refinery,” Jupiter said, pulling out and pushing in again, burying herself to the hilt and digging her nails into his hips. She leaned forward until she could feel his breathing on her face, and slowly—ever so slowly—eased her way out.

“Majesty— _please…_ ” His words were garbled, choked out between moans. Jupiter grinned.

“This is for _Nerefstaria,_ ” she whispered, canting her hips a little and sinking into him again.

Caine bit his lip, one sharp tooth standing out whitely against the red flesh, but it didn’t stop the broken whine. Jupiter shushed him, stroking the sweat off his brow and kissing his neck, just below the collar.

“And this,” she breathed, before pushing herself upright and pulling out of him to the head. She coaxed his legs further apart and lined herself up as best she could, getting a firm grip on each of his hipbones. She wondered, briefly, if she could leave bruises there. They’d look striking against his pale pink skin, and the thought of it made her dizzy with arousal. She dug her fingers in, determined to try, and said:

“This is for _everything else,_ Caine.”

And fucked into him with a snap of her hips that sent all the air out of him in a strained gasp. She didn’t wait—pulled back out immediately and did it again. Harder.

Her reward was a high, keening wail, and the sight of his wings emerging from beneath him, twitching and tensing as he tried to brace himself against her onslaught.

And Jupiter lost it. She fucked into him with a will, chasing his broken gasps and moans as much as the searing pleasure she got when his body pressed the vibrator firmly into her clit. It was fantastic—awesome—and even though soon she was breathing hard and her muscles were burning, she never wanted to stop.

She didn’t stop talking either, though now the words came almost at random, with little thought to what they were.

“You’re so fucking good to me, Caine, you know that? You’re the fucking _best_ and you deserve every—” thrust “—last—” thrust “piece of loving I can give you. You hear that?”

She was actually a little surprised when Caine gasped out a “ _Yes._ ”

“Then say it!” she demanded, pulling herself into him roughly.

“I—” Caine swallowed, moaned, but soldiered bravely on. “I… deserve— _oh gods—_ I deserve… this… _”_

_“Yes you do,_ ” Jupiter crowed, giving him two vicious half-thrusts that made his whole body jack-knife against hers, forcing her deeper. “And do you know why?”

“ _Yes._ ”

“Tell me,” Jupiter ordered, running her hands up to clutch at his ribs, trying to drive, if possible, even deeper into him as she ground herself against his ass.

“Because… I… I…” he gasped, mouthed wordlessly.

“Come on, Caine,” Jupiter hissed, giving him two good pounds, as if she would drive the words out of him by force.

“I’m a… I’m a…” he choked. His eyes were gleaming with tears and even as Jupiter watched she saw one break free and run, glimmering, down the side of his face.

“You can do it, Caine,” she whispered, easing her thrusts to a gentle rocking—back and forth, back and forth—and stroking her hands toward his dick. “You can say it, you glorious thing. Come on, tell me what you are. Say it for me.”

Caine gave an anguished yell, torn between half a century of being told he was the exact opposite and pure, blinding ecstasy. But after it died away Jupiter heard him, quietly but clearly, choke out the words:

“ _I’m a good boy._ ”

“Yes, you are,” Jupiter said, literally hammering her point home. She closed a hand around his dick and leaned down to kiss his chest wantonly as she squeezed and stroked in time to her thrusts.

“You are so, so good, Caine,” she mouthed into his chest, licking and biting at random. Mostly she concentrated on the movement of her hips, on the sweet slide in and out, but she was keenly aware of how his breathing came in stuttering gasps and choked sobs. They were punctuated by loud moans, hastily bitten off. It was almost disappointing—Caine was rarely this vocal, his sexual vocabulary consisting mainly of whines, groans, growls and moans—and Jupiter really wanted to hear him lose it.

She thought he might, when she twisted her hips so she hit his prostate as she pulled out as well as when she pushed in, pumping his cock in time to her thrusts, but again he swallowed the cry even as it fought to get out of his throat.

He needed something more. Some last, key piece of encouragement—or permission. Jupiter wished she had all her faculties about her, but at the moment she was half out of her mind with arousal and excitement and strangely the only thing she could think of was how _happy_ he looked, under the sweat and the tears and the bitten-off cries. 

Caine had his eyes open and was staring vaguely up at her with an enraptured expression on his face, like a dog exulting in the attentions of his master.

Only… only not really like a dog. Despite his self-deprecations, “dog” was the wrong word for Caine. Dog was what people like Titus and Kalique saw: something domesticated, moldable and obedient. But if Caine was obedient, it was only because he respected you on some deep, primal level. If he did anything by Jupiter’s command, it was because he _chose_ to obey. He could not be forced to heel, but if he decided that was what he wanted to do, there would be no getting rid of him. 

And though he had chosen _her,_ ultimately there was still something wild in him; that great, insurmountable force that kept him fighting long past when a _dog_ would have given up. It was the same reckless energy she saw when he threw himself into the sky, wings outstretched to catch the wind.

If anyone _could_ catch the wind, it would be Caine.

Caine, who knelt with his spine straight. Who was proud in his submission.

He’d said it himself, hadn’t he? When they had first met, he’d said…

Jupiter found herself grinning as the right words came to her at last, locking in with what she wanted and what she knew he needed; filling in the last gap in the bridge they were already crossing.

“Come on, Caine,” she hissed, driving into him even as she felt her core clench and shudder at the pressure on her clit. It was too much—it wasn’t enough. She ground into him, hands fisting on his cock as she chased her own climax. “Wanna hear you, Caine. Wanna hear you feel _this_ —” she rocked out and then jammed herself back in, making his spine arch and his wings flail uselessly against the bed.

Caine choked down on another cry, and Jupiter pried a hand off his dick so she could reach up and grab a handful of his hair, pulling their faces together. Noses brushing, she snarled:

“ _Howl_ for me, wolf!”

Caine’s eyes flew open. Big and bright and impossibly blue. For a moment he looked stunned. Then, as if something had broken inside him, his hands came down on Jupiter’s hips, pulling her tightly against him, and he threw his head back and…

Howl was the wrong word. There was nothing musical about the sound he made: it was a raw, ragged, hoarse cry; something that ripped out of his chest and took pieces of him with it. But it was loud, and long, and the sound of it—coupled with the sight of him so thoroughly and wantonly surrendered—shot through Jupiter like a bolt of lightning. It ricocheted off her insides, triggering an avalanche of sensation and the next thing she knew she was coming, vicious and hard, her own cries mingling with his as she thrust jerkily against him, shuddering under the waves of searing pleasure.

Warm. He was warm under her hands, still quivering with arousal and need. She was lying flat out against him, his hard cock pressing insistently against her belly, while she, still sunk to the hilt in his ass, felt his inner muscles trembling against her strap-on.

More warmth. His hands had come to rest on her back, gently stroking, coaxing her off him so he could get as his cock.

“Uh-uh,” mumbled Jupiter, batting his hands away and switching off the vibrator, so she could concentrate. “’Nother advantage to being fucked by a girl: I’m not finished til you are.” 

She shook out the kinks in her shoulders, squared herself up, and resumed rocking into him, focusing on working his cock now with both hands, allowing him to push himself against her as much as he pleased.

He was whining again, one long, uninterrupted keen, his shoulders shaking and his entire face almost as red as his cock.

At the last he reached over and closed his hands over Jupiter’s, holding her as she held him as he came, shooting hot, thick, white seed across his belly. He convulsed once against her, then fell back on the bed with a relieved moan as his knot began to grow.

Jupiter stilled, stroking him gently until he was fully engorged, but when she moved to draw out, a shaking hand landed on her thigh, holding her inside him.

“No,” he whispered, his voice cracked and hoarse. “Stay. Please, stay.”

Jupiter laughed, fondly. “As you wish,” she said, and tenderly stroked his face. Then realized the hand she had used was sticky with half-dried lube and come. “Oh shit, sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” Caine cupped the offending hand in one of his and turned his face to kiss the palm. She felt his tongue, delightfully moist and smooth, lick a stripe from her wrist to her fingertips and _oh_ that made her hips jerk against him involuntarily.

It made Caine grunt, but he was smiling—that secret, proud smile he seemed to share only with her. Then he turned his face to her palm again and began licking in earnest, mouthing her thumb and sucking her fingers until the skin was clean.

And then— it shouldn’t have been a surprise by this point, but Caine was nothing if not full of surprises—he reached down and began scooping up the globs of come with his own hand, bringing it to his mouth and licking it off his fingers.

“Oh my _god,_ ” Jupiter said with a shaky laugh.

Caine gave her a surprised look, three fingers in his mouth.

“Nothing,” she said, in answer to the unspoken question. “Here, let me help.” She propped herself up and began wiping his torso off with her hands, but when she went to lick them clean herself Caine caught her wrist.

“No,” he whispered. “Please… let me.”

Jupiter raised her eyebrows, but she let him take her hand into his mouth and eat the come off her fingers. She waited until, between the two of them, they got his abdomen fairly clean, and then she leaned down and kissed him. She kissed him hard, using her thumbs to pry his jaw open so she could scour the inside of his mouth with her tongue, chasing down the last hints of his seed and swallowing lustily. He tasted strongly of salt, with a hint of sweet-and-sour and, as always, that strange electric aftertaste.

She sighed when their lips parted, laying herself down on top of him and tucking her face into the crook of his neck. She felt his hands come to rest on her back, and a moment later he shifted under her to get his wings fully extended, curling them up to wrap around her.

Jupiter would have been content to go to sleep like that, awash in filtered sunlight, cocooned in his wings with his hard knot sandwiched between their bellies, but after a few minutes of quiet breathing Caine broke the silence.

“There is something… I think I should tell you,” he said. 

“Mmm?” said Jupiter, not bothering to open her eyes.

“It’s something that I’ve… I’ve known for a long time.” His voice was a pleasant rumble against Jupiter’s ear, while his breath gusted warmly over the top of her head. “I should have told you long ago,” he went on. “First I doubted you, then I doubted myself. And when all my doubts were gone, I don’t know. It seemed unnecessary.”

His hands were loose on her back, his wings relaxed. When Jupiter raised her head, resting her chin on his chest, she found him looking at her with such a tender fondness that she knew exactly what it was he was trying to say.

She grinned at him, lazily.

“There really is no not-cheesy way to say it,” she said. “It’s okay. Just… just say it.”

Caine cast his eyes down, but he looked amused. Then his expression sobered and he met her gaze very solemnly as he leaned in and said, “I love you.”

And it was not the explosion of rainbows and puppies Jupiter had imagined. Rather she felt something warm and soothing and _familiar_ encircle her heart. It was as if she _had_ heard those words before. Over and over again.

Because she _had,_ she realized.

“Huh,” she said, stroking his face. “So that’s what you really mean when you call me ‘Your Majesty.’”

Caine’s gaze didn’t waver, and his hand trailed whisper-light fingers across Jupiter’s cheek. She grinned, leaning into him so their noses bumped.

“No wonder it works for me,” she said, grinning shamelessly, and kissed him.

They remained like that, wrapped up in each other, until finally Caine’s knot untied, and Jupiter was able to ease herself out of him. Caine made a half-hearted attempt to help with the cleanup, but Jupiter pushed him back down onto the bed with a finger.

“You were up all night,” she pointed out, planting a kiss on his nose. “You, sleep now. I’ll take care of this.”

Caine made a feeble protest, more out of habit than anything, but he was so tired that within moments of Jupiter sticking a pillow under his head and throwing a sheet over him, he was fast asleep.

She knelt beside the bed for a while after that, still wearing the harness and strap-on. For some reason she was loathe to take it off. She was having that feeling again: like something so amazing had happened it had to be a dream. But the weight on her groin anchored her; reminded her that _yes,_ this was something that really happened.

She watched his chest rise and fall for a while, listened as his breath slowed and leveled out, his face relaxed and serene and surprisingly young-looking. It was hard to believe he was fifty years old. Then again, Stinger had said Dead Land years didn’t count. Jupiter wondered what exactly the Dead Land was, and just how long Caine and been there.

She wondered a lot of things, but in a distant, casual way, confident that given enough time, all the mysteries would be resolved.

*

Jupiter Jones walked, swaggering a little (you couldn’t walk normally, it turned out, with five-and-a-half inches of dildo sticking proudly out of your groin) into the bathroom, where she got distracted staring at herself in the mirror.

Jupiter had always been naturally critical of her appearance—a fact she was not proud of. Yet now, even with her hair horribly out of place, no make up, and a faint sheen of dried sweat on her face, she couldn’t help admiring the way her eyes seemed to sparkle—as though she had a secret that made her immeasurably happy and immensely proud. She turned herself sideways, for once not agonizing over the line of her belly, and instead admired the firm arch of Mistress as it arched away from her body.

In the end she put on her favorite pink bathrobe (the one which had been with her through hell and high school and was stained from her ill-fated attempt at dying her hair red when she was seventeen), right on over the harness and dildo. She wiped herself down, washed her face and hands, and went into the kitchen to make a sandwich.

As she sat at the breakfast bar, wearing her fuzzy, pink bathrobe, harness and dildo, eating a PB&J and sipping a cool glass of soy milk, she felt an iron-hard confidence settle around her. It was the calm, assured sort of confidence she had only ever experienced in fits and bursts before. Now, however, it felt like it was here to stay.

It felt like she could do anything.

After she finished eating she took herself into the communication closet and booted up the link to Smasher Mantine’s corvette.

Chicanery Night answered, and looked diffidently down at his feet the moment his face appeared on the screen. He didn’t seem at all flustered by her appearance, however, and Jupiter reflected that after Balem, messy hair and a pink bathrobe were nothing to get upset about.

“Hi,” said Jupiter. “How are things?”

“Your operations are proceeding as planned,” said Chincanery, looking pleased under his deferent posture. “We have received Miss Apini’s packages, and are preparing them for shipment. Also, I am pleased to inform you that your interests in Estarte Nectars, Inc. have been processed. You have successfully completed your first grievance settlement.”

“You mean, _you_ successfully got me my first grievance settlement,” Jupiter said.

Chicanery did color at that, and looked away. He muttered something about only doing his job and cleared his throat.

“Okay,” said Jupiter, “I better talk to him.

*

Fillien had so far forgotten the communication node affixed to the ceiling of his cell that when it blinked on he jumped and shaded his eyes, and it took him a moment to register the face that was looking down at him.

“Hello, Mr Estarte,” said a familiar, female voice.

Fillien blinked up at the sight of the Abrasax recurrence, her face plain and unadorned, save for the messy fall of dark hair off to one side. The screen showed only her head and shoulders, but she appeared to be wearing the hide of fluffy, pink sea creature draped around her shoulders. 

Fillien tried to unstick his mouth to answer. He’d had a lot of time to think about what he could say to her, but now that the moment was upon him the woman swept on before he could get the words out.

“I’m sorry this has taken so long,” she was saying. “Things happened. You know. Discovered the daughter of a friend has been raising bees which make magic, death-defying honey. Been figuring out how to distribute them. You know how it is.” She smiled apologetically.

“But the good news is, you’re free to go,” she went on.

Fillien gaped at her.

“Are you mad?” he gasped. “Or just incurably stupid?”

The face of Jupiter Abrasax raised an eyebrow. She did not look either upset or impressed. If anything, she seemed disappointed.

“I’m not an Abrasax,” she said. “Even if I have got their genes. I don’t believe in petty revenge or mind games or any of that bullshit you Entitled like so much. And, since I’m the one with an army of dinosaurs and highly trained space marines, we’re gonna do this _my_ way. Which is: I take all your planets, and you get to go back to your yacht and _never_ come anywhere _near_ me or my worlds _ever again._ ”

Fillien stared at her. Then he began to laugh derisively. “That’s all?” he gasped. “That’s _all?_ My dear, you think you know us? Know our culture? You can’t just change the rules to suit your whims!”

“Can’t I?” Jupiter asked, and there was an unsettling smile curling around her mouth. She relaxed in her seat and tossed a lock of hair over her shoulder. She sighed.

Behind him, the door to his cell rolled open. Two masked legionnaires entered, and clapped him into restraints.

“It’s too bad, really,” Jupiter Abrasax was saying on the screen. “You could have had it all, Mr. Estarte. You could have had Earth’s miracles, if you had only _asked_. But since you tried to trick me, since you tried to take what wasn’t yours, you’re not only getting _nothing,_ you’re losing what you already had.”

She leaned forward, her face filling the monitor. “I’ll tell you what you can do, though. You can watch. You can watch me change the universe. And, if you’re very good, maybe— _maybe_ —one day I’ll let you help. But until then I don’t want to see you, and if you ever so much as enter this system again, I _will_ let Gurnogheth turn you into a hamburger and feed you to Smasher.”

The screen went black. The legionnaires dragged Filiien Estarte away.

*

Back on earth, safely cocooned in her fuzzy pink bathrobe, Jupiter Jones stretched and yawned. The action caused Mistress to peek impertinently through the folds of terrycloth, and she batted it playfully aside. It was time, she decided, to get dressed. Maybe she’d read a book or surf the internet until Caine woke up, and then, together, they could get started on the rest of their lives.

This would involve bees, Jupiter was certain. And probably more space adventures. Definitely more sex. Also danger, excitement. And dinner with her family. But Jupiter was fairly certain that whatever the vast future brought, they could handle it.

They were well over the bridge now, and the land beyond was a strange and exciting country, full of possibilities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLD ON TIGHT THERE’S STILL THE EPILOGUE!
> 
> But in the mean time, here’s some notes:
> 
> Kiza’s bug is an autoimmune disorder brought on by her unique genetic table. It was loosely inspired by [this awesome piece of meta](http://ficklefandoms.tumblr.com/post/114565582555/omg-i-figured-out-what-the-bug-is-when-queried). Essentially, it’s a “bug” a bit like the way Caine described his supposed mental “bug” which caused him to bite an Entitled. Except unlike Caine, Kiza’s bug is a real thing. I imagined it to be like a progressive disorder wherein the body’s immune system slowly turns on itself, starting with the pulmonary system (hence her coughing). Because of this, she would either need frequent resets or a complete recode, both of which would be beyond Stinger’s means to supply—hence the shenanigans with Titus in the movie. However, since the black honey regulates the body’s immune system, it is an effective treatment as well.
> 
> How exactly Kiza is unique (not to mention how Stinger came by a reset himself) would have been explained if you read the prequel to this fic. It is called _The Glorious Bastards of the GLS Altairscythe_ , and the reason you haven’t read it is because I haven’t written it yet. It is my (mostly hypothetical) Caine/Stinger Legion Days!Prequel, and I’m not promising I’m going to write it after I finish HTTYAWBF. No I am not promising that at all.
> 
> In my head-canon, the Dead Lands are sort of an extreme solitary confinement center for criminals who should really be dead. Inmates are put in a form of suspended animation, which is why Caine appears so relatively young. There are a whole lot of reasons why it’s done this way, none of which are very pleasant. Again, something the prequel would have elaborated on.
> 
> (By the way, both Caine and Stinger's ages are of my own invention, purely to serve the purpose of this broadening story.)
> 
> I cribbed the idea of black bees which create immortality-inducing honey from a story I heard Neil Gaiman read back in 2011. It’s called “The Case of Death and Honey” and you can find it in his latest short story collection, _Trigger Warning_. Kiza’s bees are a bit different, of course, and so is the honey, but the concept seemed to fit so perfectly with the JA universe I just had to use it.
> 
> How the black bees came to Earth in the first place is something I would explore in the sequel… if I were to write a sequel. I'd also explore how to get Jupiter and Caine and Stinger all together in the same bed but that's beside the point.
> 
> General Toren is a high commander in the Legion, named after one of the protagonists in Ann Leckie’s awesome novel _Ancillary Justice_ , which shares many thematic elements with Jupiter Ascending and which I highly recommend.
> 
> For those of you wishing to live vicariously through our heroes, Caine’s collar can be found [here](http://www.stockroom.com/Black-Leather-Collar-with-Heart-Inlay-P3115.aspx), and Jupiter’s lovely dildos [here](http://www.babeland.com/leo/d/1352), [here](http://www.babeland.com/mistress/d/1358), [here](http://www.babeland.com/siren-dildo/d/1344), [here](http://www.babeland.com/boss-dildo/d/4564), [here](http://www.babeland.com/magnum-dildo/d/1437), [and here](http://www.babeland.com/mustang/d/1440). Oh, and she’s using this harness.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and commenting. Onwards to the (not really at all) bitter end!


	8. Acknowledgements and Epilogues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you believe it? As I'm posting this last chapter I get an email from iTunes saying my pre-order of Jupiter Ascending is ready to download. Truly this is a charmed world.

> **Acknowledgements I:**

>   
>  _This fic was a labor of love and devotion to the first movie to fully enthrall and transport me since I was thirteen. The last film to inspire me so was_ The Matrix _, also written and directed by the Wachowskis. First and foremost I owe the sincerest thanks to them, and to the entire crew and cast of_ Jupiter Ascending. _It is my hope that this fic stays true enough to the spirit of the movie that, should any of them find it, they will not be_ too _weirded out._

 

**Epilogue I: Kalique**

 

The Earth turned, spinning the Americas toward evening, and from its high orbit the GLS _Helioblade_ watched the darkened face become traced by fine lines of golden light, knotting in tight clusters at the cities, fraying into nothing at the north and south and in large swatches where oceans, deserts, and high mountains still held out against the encroaching electrical army.

Beyond the half-cloaked shape of the _Helioblade,_ three small courier ships—designed to transport sensitive cargo as fast as possible across the galaxy—disappeared through three consecutive portals, the light of them barely a flicker on the great starry canvas of the universe.

Cerise turned, spinning the alcazar of Kalique Abrasax toward morning, and the approaching courier. The little ship was instantly surrounded by surreptitious security drones, only to be deferentially guided in to land when it’s pilot identified themselves as a Legionnaire First Class and their ship as containing a package of value intended for the mistress of the planet, as well as a lot of effective weapons.

Less than two hours later it departed, leaving behind a small, circular object which buzzed faintly as Kalique turned it over in her (perfectly smooth) hands. She read the attached note for the second time, and then handed it to Maledictes with a sardonic smile.

Her servant read the note and then looked at her, confused.

“Your Majesty, what can this mean?”

A single, glossy black bee emerged from the hive. She gazed up at Kalique as though _she_ were the insect and the bee the ruler of a dozen planets. Then she buzzed off to inspect the flowers of a nearby vine.

“It means my mother will finish what she started after all,” whispered Kalique. Her smile was hard to interpret: it might have been sad, it might have been pitying, and it might—just might—have been hopeful. Summoning one of her gardeners she handed the hive over, along with explicit instructions as to its care.

“And her note, your Majesty?” Malidictes asked.

“I will keep it,” Kalique sighed, and took the little tablet, running her eyes over the last line one more time before tucking it into the bodice of her gown.

_Trust, and friendship, must be earned_ (it said).

_-Jupiter Jones_

 

> **Acknowledgements II:**

>   
>  _This fic was a labor of love and devotion to the budding fandom of_ Jupiter Ascending. _Prior to this I have never published any of my fanfic, due in part to a feeling that anything that I could add to the conversation of, say, the MCU or Supernatural or Doctor Who, had already been said—and said better—by more experienced writers. However, as there were no such fics of the exact sort and type I wanted when I returned from the movie theatre, I realized it was time to step up to the plate and write the fic I wanted to see on the internet. That it has resonated with so many others is a continual delight to me; I would never have expected such an overwhelmingly positive response, though I might have imagined it in my dreams._

> _I’d like to thank my fellow Ascenders for their inspiring fanworks and head-canons and general awesomeness: particularly FuckYeahJupiterAscending (tumblr), Takiki16 (tumblr/AO3) and my sister-in-pervertedness, BemusedlyBespectacled (tumblr/AO3), and basically everyone who’s ever posted a silly drabble or meta about this beautiful, amazing, shameless world._

 

**Epilogue II: Captain Tsing**

 

The courier left the Aegis cruiser in a state of cautious excitement. Diomika Tsing could feel it, like a strange echo of the buzzing within the hive which was currently occupying the middle of her desk. But she had not gotten where she was by making blind leaps of faith, and so after carefully reading Jupiter’s message, she called General Toren.

One of his ancillaries answered, but it was close enough.

“Did you get one of these?” she asked, without preamble.

“Yes, we did, Captain Tsing,” the robot replied, smoothly. “We were about to confirm that you had one as well. We are considering how best to implement this new technology, and were wondering if you had any insights—considering your previous experience with the Abrasax recurrence.”

“The first thing I would say is to stop thinking of her as an Abrasax recurrence—she’s nothing like the rest of that family.”

“Oh,” said the ancillary. “That is helpful.”

“The second,” Tsing sighed. “I suppose we’ll need to rent a garden ship.”

“There we may be able to assist you,” said the ancillary of General Toren, and it smiled, very faintly.

The next thing Captain Tsing did was call Jupiter herself.

“If you’ll pardon my speaking plainly, your majesty, but what in the galaxy are you _thinking?_ ”

Jupiter Jones raised her eyebrows, innocently.

“I’m thinking immortality serum derived from honey is a better option that boiling down people into magic juice?” she said, as if it were that simple.

Diomika Tsing rubbed the skin under her implant. It would never be that simple.

Unless it _was._

“What about Earth, then? Will you want to be elevating it to cognizant world status?”

“Will I what?” said Jupiter.

“Your home planet is also the homeworld for these bees,” Captain Tsing explained. “I assume you’ll want to share the good news. In which case it is also in your interest to inform them of their situation in the galaxy.”

Now Jupiter was frowning, however, and she slowly shook her head.

“No…” she said. “Not yet. You know, I’ve been thinking about that, and I’ve decided it’s better to take the _Star Trek_ option.”

“The what?”

“ _Star Trek,_ ” said Jupiter. “It’s a TV show. About space. They have this thing called the Prime Directive—mostly it’s ignored, but the idea is you don’t push galactic civilization onto a population unless it’s figured things out for itself. So… um… yeah. Earth people aren’t stupid. They’ll figure out the truth eventually.”

“Or they will destroy themselves,” Tsing pointed out. “It happens more often on Tersies worlds than you’d think.”

Jupiter shrugged. “We’ll probably give them… I dunno… some hints? Just… little pushes in the right direction, so that won’t happen. It’ll be cool. Caine and I have a plan.”

“That is immensely reassuring,” said Captain Tsing. She’d meant to sound dry, and then she remembered this was Caine Wise they were talking about. 

It wouldn’t be easy, but maybe it really was that simple. 

 

> **Acknowledgements III:**

> _I’ve undertaken (and completed) a number of project where it felt like I was working in a void. I had no idea—no feedback—of how people saw my work, or even if they enjoyed it. The sheer enthusiasm and exuberance in the comments this fic has received has been the best part of writing it. Every time I felt just a little tired or discouraged, I had only to check AO3 and read the latest comments and it would fill me with energy and determination. It’s a bit like sight-reading music, posting a fic chapter-by-chapter as you write it—even if, like me, you have a fairly good idea of what the story is before you even start. High stakes, is what I mean. But getting these doses of encouragement and praise have really made the writing of this fic so much more fun. I cannot thank everyone who’s commented (even if it’s just a few words) enough, and I hope the wait between updates has not been too unbearable. Quite literally, I would not have done this without you. I believe the tags in[this post](http://elrondxrn.tumblr.com/post/116794621264/commenters-on-ao3-are-the-actual-best-pass-it-on) sum up my feelings fairly well. So, thank you._

 

**Epilogue III: The Bolotnikovs**

 

It was gathering dusk by the time they stopped at the drive to the Bolotnikov residence. Aleska’s car was parked on the street, and the front window glowed orange in the dying light. The family was probably waiting, breathless and impatient, clustered in the entry way.

Jupiter nudged Caine gently with her elbow. “You ready for this?” she asked.

Caine adjusted the collar of his button down shirt so it lay smooth over the leather collar he wore underneath. He checked the perception filter which was blunting the appearance of his ears and masking the bulge of his wings. He took a deep breath.

“Suddenly I miss Orous,” he said.

Jupiter did a double-take.

“Wait, was that—was that a _joke,_ Caine?”

Caine inclined his head; raised a yellow eyebrow. The corner of his mouth twitched.

“That’s terrible,” said Jupiter. “My family is not _half_ as bad as Orous.”

“I’d still feel better if Intergalactic Advocate Bob was here,” Caine sighed, looking wistfully up at the heavens.

She wanted to leap into his arms and hug and kiss him until they were out of breath. But if she did that, she knew, they’d be egregiously late. So she punched him playfully in the arm, then grabbed his elbow and pulled him up the drive.

Caine went willingly, of course, shoulders heaving with silent laughter.

“Look on the bright side,” Jupiter said, reaching the door and pulling it open. “Whatever happens, I know for a fact this house as _no_ warhammers in it.”

“If you say so, Your Majesty,” said Caine, but he was smiling as he ducked his head to follow Jupiter inside.

 

**The End**

 

**P.S.**

 

“So. This is the boyfriend.”

“Yes, mother.”

“He’s very tall.”

“ _Shh._ ”

“What’s your sign?”

“Are you an alien?”

“Don’t be rude, Moltka.”

“I can’t believe this, Cousin Jupiter is dating an _alien._ ”

“Moltka!”

“Technically, he’s right.”

“ _Caine!_ ”

“What? I don’t have a U.S. passport.”

“ _Oh,_ is like that, is it? Do not worry, Caine, we understand. Jupiter, what is this?”

“It’s a present, Mom.”

“What is—it looks like molasses. You know I hate molasses, Jupiter.”

“It’s not Mom, honest. It’s sort of like honey. Try it, you’ll like it.”

“You think so?”

“I hope so.”

 

**The End**

 

**(for real)**

 

**(sort of)**

 

**(okay not really)**

 

Jupiter and Caine (and company) will return in

_Life is the Game and the Game is Changing_

the Jupiter/Caine/Stinger sequel

feat. Actual Bee Princess Kiza Apini

But first you can expect

_The Glorious Bastards of the GLS Altairscythe_

the no-longer-hypothetical Caine/Stinger Legion Days!Prequel

feat. General Toren (and ancillaries) and Missellein Calhoun

 

~* _keep ascending_ *~ _  
_

♃

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, that last bit is intended to dovetail with the brilliant [“My Cousin is Dating an Alien”](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3416852) by angelan.
> 
> Yes, I am totally going to write the prequel/sequels. Who am I kidding? Put together I’m calling this series _Ave Jupiter, Her Shield Full of Light_ (because if you’re gonna do long titles, why do it by halves?). Follow my ficcing progress on [my tumblr](http://elrondxrn.tumblr.com/) under the “[Ave Jupiter](http://elrondxrn.tumblr.com/tagged/Ave-Jupiter)” tag.
> 
> Love you all. _Keep ascending!_


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